Black & Blue & Dead All Over
by Sue Pokorny
Summary: We know a lot about Starsky's family, but very little about Hutch's. This is my explanation as to why that is. Set between the last scene and tag of the 4th season episode "Black & Blue". Will be posted in 4 parts - just imagine '70's era commercials in between.
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first Starsky & Hutch fic in quite a long time. I usually write in the Supernatural 'verse, but since I've been less than inspired for the last few seasons, I've turned back to my first love to feed my need to write. Big BIG thanks to my dear beta, Sharlot, who went above and beyond in beta-ing this even though it's not exactly in her sandbox. Silver lining: she's re-watching a show she hasn't seen in decades and loving it again! My work is done._

_This story takes place between the last scene and tag of the 4__th__ season episode "Black & Blue". While we know some things about Starsky's family, we know next to nothing about Hutch's. This is my take on why._

**Black & Blue & Dead All Over**

"You okay?"

Hutch slumped back against the wall and ducked his head. "Yeah, I'm okay," he replied to Captain Dobey's inquiry in a soft, breathless voice. He shifted his eyes to Starsky who was still trussed up in the chair. "You okay?"

The seated man grinned. "I'm okay." He turned his head, directing his next words to Detective Joan Meredith who, like him, was trussed up to a chair, but unharmed. "You okay, Partner?"

The black woman grinned back, the relief in her voice palpable. "I'm fine."

Starsky chuckled. "Yes, you are."

Hutch rolled his eyes. "Someone want to take care of this turkey?" He waved the Magnum at the suspect, still lying in the boxes on the floor.

"Wanna untie me?" Starsky turned wide eyes to the blond, not missing the way Hutch was leaning into the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him vertical.

Hutch shook his head, then gestured with the gun in his right hand toward the sling supporting his left. "Out of hands."

"Oh," Starsky directed his attention to Dobey. "Captain?" He moved slightly in the chair and thrust his hands over as far as they could go, wiggling his fingers to punctuate his request.

With a huff, Dobey holstered his weapon and walked behind the bound detective, deftly untying the ropes that held him captive. As soon as he was free, Starsky bent over the man on the ground, flipped him over and pulled his arms toward the small of his back. He held out a hand and looked expectantly at Hutch. "Got any cuffs?"

Hutch arched his brows and simply smiled.

Starsky sighed, feigning disappointment. "Some boy scout you are. Cap, cuffs?" He threw the request over his shoulder, ducking a bit to catch the metal bracelets tossed his way.

With the perp now cuffed, Hutch lowered his gun and took a deep breath, letting the tension drain from his tired body. Dobey freed Detective Meredith then stepped back, allowing her to pull the other perp from the ground, holding the young girl's arm bent behind her back. As the thin black girl stood, she caught sight of Hutch standing against the wall, her eyes taking in the dried blood staining his denim jacket. She swallowed and opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it immediately and lowered her gaze to the floor.

Hutch stared back, his face carefully neutral, as the girl who'd put a bullet into him – and had nearly done the same to his partner - was led out the door and transferred to the patrolmen who had arrived on the scene.

Starsky pulled the male prisoner from the ground and delivered him to the other uniform, watching as they led both suspects out of the house and to the waiting patrol cars outside, followed closely by Meredith and Dobey. Meredith turned, giving him an inquisitive look. He smiled and nodded to her and, with a hesitant glance towards Hutch, she returned the nod then hurried to catch up to the Captain. Only then did Starsky turn to Hutch, still leaning heavily against the wall.

Starsky noted the slumped shoulders, the fine sheen of sweat along his friend's brow and the pale complexion.

"Just happen to be in the neighborhood?"

Hutch huffed a laugh. "Something like that. So that's your new partner, huh Partner? Guess you were right. She's filled in plenty."

Starsky grinned. "And in more interesting places than my old partner, Partner." He took a moment to look the other man up and down. "Don't tell me, the docs don't know you escaped?"

Hutch raised an eyebrow. "They probably do by now."

Starsky shook his head. "What am I gonna do with ya, Blintz?"

Hutch smiled softly. "Well, for starters you could help me out of here. I think I may have hit my proverbial wall." He let his head tilt back until it contacted the actual wall holding him up. "No pun intended."

Starsky reached for the Magnum and pulled it from Hutch's lax grip. He stuffed the gun into his belt behind his back and took hold of Hutch's good arm.

"You're not looking too steady there, buddy."

"Just a little dizzy," the blond admitted. "It's been a busy day."

"I bet." Starsky pulled him forward and placed his other arm around the taller man's back. "Breakin' out of hospitals can be pretty taxing."

Hutch snorted a laugh and allowed his partner to steer him toward the open door. "Tell me about it," he chuckled. "Those nurses can be pretty scary."

"Yet, you were still able to get away, huh, Captain Marvel?"

"Sometimes it's good to be a superhero, Starsk."

They slowly moved outside, just in time to see the patrol units with the suspects in back pull away from the curb. Meredith and Captain Dobey were at the base of the steps as the two senior detectives made their way onto the porch.

Starsky led Hutch down the steps, pushing him down to sit on the bottom one before he turned to his captain and Meredith.

"So you wanna tell me how you two figured out where we were?" Starsky inquired, his voice pitched a bit higher than normal. "Or better yet, why the walking wounded here is comin' to our rescue at all?"

Dobey nodded toward Hutch. "Hutchinson is the one who figured out the connection between the robberies."

Starsky turned back to his partner, his brows raised high enough to disappear under the dark curls. "Oh?"

Hutch shrugged, then winced before answering. "Just a little bit of actual detective work, Starsk." He smiled to take the sting out of the words. "No ESP quotient necessary."

Starsky's eyes widened further. "Oh? Well, do tell Mr. Great Detective."

Hutch chuckled and used his good hand to rub at the crease between his eyes. "I just figured out that all the homes that were hit used the same answering service."

Starsky and Meredith exchanged a look of surprise. "Answering service?"

Hutch nodded. "Once we figured that out, it was just a matter of finding out which of their employees was tipping off the heists. She gave us this address and here we are."

Starsky looked from his partner, to Meredith, then Dobey. The captain shrugged and grinned. "Took him all of ten minutes to piece it together."

Starsky shook his head and looked back at Hutch, his expression a mixture of pride and annoyance. "Ten minutes, huh?"

Hutch tilted his head, an innocent smile on his face. "Give or take."

Meredith was grinning at the banter between the men. "Maybe you partnered me up with the wrong half of the team, Captain."

Starsky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. He's the brains, I'm just the brawn."

"Well why don't you use that brawn and get your partner back to the hospital where he belongs, Starsky?" Dobey ordered. He tossed the detective his keys. "I'll wait for the crime scene team then head back to the precinct with Detective Meredith. You get Hutch taken care of then meet us there to take care of the paperwork."

"What about him?" Starsky whined, pointing to his seated friend. "Why doesn't he have to do paperwork?"

"Because as you just succinctly pointed out, he's walking wounded. Now get moving or you're going to be writing reports until midnight!"

Mumbling under his breath, Starsky reached down and helped his friend to stand, unconsciously keeping a hand on his back until he was steady. "Some people get all the luck."

"You call getting shot lucky?"

Starsky grinned lasciviously at Meredith, bobbing his brows up and down before returning his attention to Hutch. "Who said I was talking about you, Partner?"

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshs

A few hours later Starsky, swung through the doors to the squad room at Metro, sighing as he eyed the typewriter sitting ominously on his desk. Normally he'd be able to pawn off report writing on his partner, but, giving that Hutch was sidelined on this one, he was resigned to actually doing the work himself. He'd toyed with the idea of sweet talking Meredith into doing the actual typing, but the absence of the female detective in the squad room put an end to that fantasy.

After he had dropped Hutch at home – the blond insisting he was fine and adamantly refusing to go back to the hospital despite Dobey's order to the contrary – Starsky had made sure his partner was safe and comfortable, then headed back to his own place to shower and change. He was tired, the long hours of stakeouts and being trussed up taking a toll, but knew he'd have to get the paperwork on this arrest taken care of before he could relax. He'd considered spending the evening with Meredith, but a little kernel of worry had made him nix the idea in favor of picking up a pizza and some root beer and heading back to check in on Hutch. After all, the big lummox had broken himself out of his nice, comfy hospital bed in order to save his ass, the least he could do was make sure the guy was fed and keep him company.

Before the detective could make it across the room to his desk, Dobey's door opened and the captain emerged, looking around and catching his eye.

"Starsky!" he bellowed familiarly, making Starsky wonder for the hundredth time whether the man knew how to use an inside voice. "Where the hell have you been? I've been calling the hospital and they said Hutchinson never returned."

Starsky shrugged and approached the captain, throwing a leg over his chair and dropping into the seat. "I took him home."

"Home? The man just got shot. He should've never been out of the hospital to begin with."

Starsky chuckled. "I'm sure Hutch'll be touched that you're so concerned about him, Cap, but he's a big boy and he didn't wanna go back." He turned his head and raised his brows at the man. "And you know Hutch, Cap. Nobody's gonna make him do what he doesn't wanna do."

Dobey frowned but didn't argue.

"Besides," the dark haired detective continued. "I made sure he was tucked into bed nice and cozy before I left."

"Well, you'd better call and wake him up."

It was Starsky's turn to frown. "Why would I wanna do that? You just got through saying –"

"I know what I said," Dobey interrupted, abruptly retreating back into his office. "But something's come up. We need Hutchinson down here."

Starsky rose and followed his superior into the room. "Come on, Cap. Give the guy a break. What's so important that Hutch has to come all the way down here in his condition, huh? Whatever it is, I can take care of it."

Dobey settled himself behind the desk and eyed the detective. "Did Hutch say anything about his father coming to town?"

Starsky stopped, completely taken off guard by the change in topic. "What? No. Hutch hasn't spoken to his father in years. Ever since he was sick during that whole Callendar fiasco and they didn't even bother to call to find out if he was dead or alive." He stepped closer to the desk and leaned his fists against it. "What's Hutch's dad got to do with anything?"

Dobey took a deep breath and leaned back into his chair, pointing to one of the seats facing the desk. Starsky dropped into one and leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs, his full attention on the captain.

"There was an incident at the airport this morning," Dobey began.

"What kind of 'incident' are we talking about here?"

"There was a shooting involving three men. The shooters got away when airport security responded, but the third man was apprehended. He's unharmed, but officers found almost a quarter of a million dollars worth of cocaine in his bags."

Starsky whistled. "How exactly does this tie into Hutch?"

"Have you ever met Hutch's father?"

Starsky nodded, his brow furrowing further. "Yeah, a couple of times. Can't say I relished the experience. Why?"

Dobey sighed. "The man they found with the drugs is down in holding. His ID tags him as Dr. Richard Hutchinson, from Duluth, Minnesota."

Starsky's eyes went wide and he slumped back against the chair. "What? You've gotta be kidding. Hutch's dad is an ass, but drugs? I mean the man's a doctor for pete's sake."

"All I know is as soon as airport security took him into custody, he started demanding to talk to Hutch. They brought him here a couple of hours ago. He's being taken to interrogation right now."

Starsky slowly shook his head, still trying to grasp what he'd been told. "There's gotta be some kind of mistake."

"So now you see why we need Hutch back here pronto."

Starsky pushed himself up from the chair and nodded. "Yeah. I mean if it really is Hutch's dad…"

"You said you've met the man?" Dobey received a slight nod in response to his question. "Why don't you head down there and take a look. If it isn't him, no need to bring your partner into this. But if it is…"

"Right," Starsky said absently. "I'll let you know."

Shshshshshshshshshsh

Hutch groaned as the shrill ringing of the phone forced him back to reluctant wakefulness. It had taken him quite some time to find a comfortable position and finally fall asleep, the throbbing in his shoulder becoming harder to ignore as the painkillers he'd received in the hospital wore off. He'd managed to find a couple of aspirin in the bathroom, but they'd done little to relieve the ache that had steadily grown into outright pain. His impromptu escape from the hospital hadn't allowed for time to get a prescription, and he knew he'd have to do something about that sooner rather than later, but right now all he really wanted to do was sleep.

Except the damn phone kept ringing right next to his head.

Rolling over carefully, he reached out, blindly snagged the offending instrument and pressed it to his ear.

"What?"

A familiar chuckle came across the line. _"Did ya wake up on the wrong side of the bed, partner?"_

"I didn't wake up at all," he responded grumpily. "This is just a bad dream." He opened an eye and tried to focus on the clock by the bed. "Starsky, I just got to sleep." He hated the whine in his voice, but couldn't help it. He felt like shit.

"_I know."_ The humor was gone from his partner's voice, replaced with a tinge of regret and something else Hutch couldn't immediately identify. _"I'm sorry I had to bother ya, buddy, but something's come up and Dobey needs you down here ASAP."_

Hutch groaned again. "You've gotta be kidding me. Can't you handle it?"

"_Wish I could, partner. But this one has your name written all over it… literally."_

Hutch rolled onto his back with a sigh and pulled his injured arm close to his chest. "Starsky, what the hell are you talking about?"

"_Not over the phone. I'll fill you in when you get here."_

Hutch was completely awake now, the pulsing ache in his chest taking a back seat to the curiosity his partner's cryptic words had stirred. "Fine. Give me an hour to shower and change -."

"_No can do, Hutch. Dobey's sending a black and white to chauffeur you. They should be there in five. Just change into something that's not covered in dried blood and get your butt downstairs."_

"Right." Hutch rolled and placed the phone back on the cradle then lay there for a moment, contemplating what could possibly be important enough to drag a man who'd just been shot away from some much needed rest. He couldn't think of a thing except for something happening to Starsky and since he'd just spoken with him and he sounded fine – albeit a bit enigmatic – he knew there was nothing wrong with his partner.

Hutch sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Lying there thinking about it wasn't going to give him any answers. With another groan he pushed the blanket away from his body and forced himself out of bed.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshs

Starsky paced outside the squad room, glancing every few minutes toward the stairway, waiting for a glimpse of the familiar blond head. He had no idea how Hutch was going to take the news of his father being in town – let alone involved in a shooting and drug case. He was certain Hutch had no idea his father was coming, the two had barely spoken even before the incident that had broken off communication between Hutch and his parents completely.

Starsky rubbed the back of his neck as he paced, still astounded that a father could be as unaffectionate toward his own son as Hutch's seemed to be to him. Hutchinson Senior had never been thrilled about his son's choice of career, he'd made that very clear from the start. When Hutch had left medical school to go to the academy, he'd been all but cut off from his family. Eventually the tensions had thawed, but last year, when Hutch had come a hairs breadth away from cashing it in due to the virus Callendar had spread, instead of coming to support their son in his courageous struggle to live, they had flown off to some conference in France without bothering to check to see if he had even survived the ordeal. After that, it was Hutch who had cut ties with the rest of his family. Starsky knew it had hurt his friend deeply to finally realize how little he meant to them, but he'd been relieved to see a bit of anger and resentment finally surface in the blond at the snub. Since then, Hutch hadn't bothered to keep in touch with the rest of the Hutchinsons back in Duluth and had finally stopped wondering or caring whether he was to blame for the estrangement.

Once fully recovered from the plague, he and Starsky had even gone out and gotten totally plastered to celebrate what Hutch had called his 'liberation from familial hypocrisy'.

Now, the man who had caused his friend so much emotional pain and self-doubt had dropped into their laps, and, befitting the man's elitist attitude, fully expected his estranged son to come to his rescue and make it all disappear.

Considering the circumstances of what was found in his luggage, Starsky was pretty sure that wouldn't happen.

Richard Hutchinson had been completely uncooperative and downright demanding since they'd brought him to Metro. He'd insisted on speaking only to 'Kenneth' and had looked down his nose, completely unimpressed with his accommodations. If he was the least bit nervous about his situation, he hid it well.

Trudging footsteps on the stairs caught Starsky's attention and he turned to see his partner slowly step onto the landing. His red plaid shirt was untucked, and his beige jacket was in his right hand, the worn brown leather of his holster peeking out from underneath. The blue sling he'd been wearing earlier was clenched in his left hand, which he held stiffly against his stomach.

"Well, you look like shit," Starsky remarked, hurrying over to lay a hand on his friend's hunched back. Hutch's face was pinched in pain, his hair ruffled and uncombed.

"Feel worse," the blond admitted.

"Why aren't you wearing that?" Starsky pointed toward the sling hanging from his partner's clenched hand.

"Couldn't get the damn thing back on," was the terse response.

Starsky steered his friend into an empty office to the left of the stairway and pushed him down onto a chair just inside the door, aware of the heavy sigh of relief coming from the blond. He took the sling from Hutch's hand and began to untangle the straps as Hutch leaned his head back against the wall.

"Are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on?"

Starsky began to ease the sling under his partner's bad arm as he started his explanation.

"Apparently there was a shooting at the airport this morning. Two men with guns attacked another passenger coming out of baggage claim." He pushed the other man forward as he pulled the sling up under the wounded arm and began to tighten the straps. "The shooters got away but when security checked the victim out, they found a shitload of coke in his suitcase."

"OKAY," Hutch winced as his partner secured the sling, then closed his eyes and slumped as the release of not having to hold his arm up made him sigh in relief. "What does this have to do with me?"

Starsky stepped back and inspected his work, pleased to see the brief reprieve from some of the discomfort on his friend's face. He squatted down in front of Hutch, waiting until the blond opened his eyes and gazed at him inquiringly. "The guy with the suitcase was your father."

Starsky waited as the emotions tracked across his partner's face ranging from disbelief to confusion to anger.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Hutch asked quietly, his voice shaking. "Because I don't think it's funny."

Starsky shook his head, his eyes locked onto his friend's. "Wish it was, buddy. You didn't have any idea your dad was coming to town?"

Hutch shook his head. "It's not like we keep in touch."

Starsky patted his friend's knee and rose to his feet. "Well, he's been his charming self since they brought him here. Insists on only talking to you. Dobey wants to see you first."

Hutch sighed and closed his eyes again, squeezing them tightly against obvious pain.

"You take anything?"

The blond shook his head. "Didn't get anything to take."

Starsky chuckled. "Hospital breakouts have their drawbacks, huh?"

Hutch grinned in response. He took a deep breath and raised his head, giving his partner a look of resignation. "Suppose we'd better go see what dear old Dad has gotten himself mixed up in, huh?"

Starsky shrugged. "I don't know, if it were up to me, I'd let him stew down there in interrogation for a little while longer. May do him some good."

Hutch chuckled at the idea. "I doubt it. And those poor uniforms down there don't deserve the torture."

Starsky stepped back, carefully watching his partner rise slowly to his feet. "You're all heart, you know that, Hutch?"

"Yeah," the blond agreed as he turned toward the door. "I'm a giver."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

"This doesn't make any sense, Captain," Hutch shook his head slowly, his eyes pinched, focused on the floor in front of him. The Captain had laid it all out for the detective, informing him that his father was not cooperating with the investigators, refusing to speak to anyone but Hutch.

"You had no idea your father was in town?"

Hutch turned wide eyes to his superior. "None. I haven't even spoken to him in well over a year."

Dobey sighed and leaned against his desk. "Well, looks like you're going to have to speak to him now."

Hutch sighed and lowered his head to rub at his eyes. "You said they found the drugs in his suitcase?"

Dobey nodded and pulled a photo from a manila file folder. "He was on his way out of baggage claim," the Captain explained. He handed the photo of a large, gold-colored suitcase to Starsky, who glanced at it then handed it off to his partner. "Does you father have a bag like this?"

Hutch sighed and slumped down in the chair. "I have no idea."

"According to Airport Security, your father told them that two armed men stopped him a few moments after he picked up the suitcase. When he made a scene, security got involved, the two men started firing and all hell broke loose."

"But the shooters got away," Starsky qualified, taking the photo back from his partner and perching himself on the arm of Hutch's chair.

"Yes. Security chased them, but they lost them in the main terminal."

"They check the tapes?" Starsky asked absently.

"That's right," Hutch added. "That guy from security we met when we were chasing Callendar… what was his name?" The blond detective raised his head and looked up at his partner.

"Anderson."

"Right," Hutch turned his attention back to the captain. "Anderson told us that whenever an incident occurs, the security cameras are immediately engaged. They snap a photo every 3 seconds or something like that. I'm guessing they have the whole thing right on film."

"I'll have it checked out," Dobey assured them. "In the meantime, I want you to talk to your father. Get his side of this. It's obvious you don't believe he was involved, so I want you two to interview him and find out what the hell is going on."

"What about IA?" Starsky asked, dropping the photo back onto Dobey's desk. "If they know Hutch's dad is involved, they're gonna come sniffing around sooner or later."

Dobey stuffed the photo back into the file and thrust it out toward the detectives. "You let me worry about Internal Affairs. You two just go figure out exactly how Dr. Hutchinson's involved in this whole thing."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshs

Hutch took a deep breath and opened the door, nodding to the thin black officer who stood just inside the doorway of Interrogation 3.

"Hey, Mike. Can you give us a few minutes?"

"Sure thing, Hutch." The officer nodded and made his way to the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Hutch stepped across the small room and tossed the file folder onto the table, slowly raising his eyes to meet the familiar, calculating ones he hadn't seen in such a long time. The first thing he noticed was how much older his father looked. The elder man's hair was thinning and almost completely white, the lines on his face set deeper around his eyes and mouth. But his eyes were just as Hutch remembered them. Cool, observant, shrewd; the kind of eyes that looked right through you, right down into your soul.

Those eyes had always made Hutch squirm.

"I'd say you look good, Kenneth, but we both know that would be a lie."

_And the battle begins._

Hutch pulled out the chair and sat carefully, forcing himself to meet his father's gaze. "What are you doing here, Dad?"

"That's exactly what I want to know!" Richard Hutchinson's voice exploded inside the small interrogation room. "These… people… here have been inexcusably rude and are keeping me here against my will. I have rights!"

Hutch flinched at the way the word 'people' was spit out with such disdain, but he fought to retain his composure.

"You have the right to an attorney," he responded in a controlled voice. "I'm sure that was explained to you when you were taken into custody."

"I have done nothing to be arrested for!" Richard's face was beginning to turn red, his anger palpable.

Hutch sighed, shifting in the chair a bit to relieve the pain radiating from his shoulder. "Fine." He held up a hand to calm the irate man. "Let's start again. What are you doing here? In California?"

Richard sat back in his own chair and straightened his shoulders, regaining his composure. "I'm here for a medical conference."

Hutch nodded once, a soft laugh escaping. "You fly halfway across the country, right into my backyard and it doesn't even occur to you to let me know?"

"It's not like you bother to keep in touch, Kenneth," Richard frowned as if the situation was something he shouldn't have to explain. "A fact that has hurt your mother deeply, I might add. But I'm here on business, not a social call."

Hutch closed his eyes momentarily._ Unbelievable._

The detective took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. "Of course." He gave his father a cold smile, not wanting the other man to know how much he truly wanted to jump up and finally have it out with him.

"How long is it going to take for you to get this mess cleared up? I have meetings to attend."

Hutch's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Richard huffed impatiently and spoke slowly as if to a child. "I want you to take care of this so that I can get back to my conference. I don't have time for this nonsense."

Hutch couldn't help but snort a laugh. "You're kidding, right? Do you even understand the kind of trouble you're in?"

The doctor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms "Again, I have done nothing wrong. And my patience is wearing thin."

"Yours and mine both."

Before the older man could comment, the door opened and Starsky sauntered through. He smiled at the doctor as he closed the door and walked across the room, laying a hand on the back of his partner's neck and giving it a squeeze as he passed. Continuing to the far wall, he quietly folded his arms and leaned back on his shoulder, one ankle over the other, and looked at the two men at the table expectantly.

Richard breathed heavily through his nose. "I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for interrupting us, Detective Starsky, but if you don't mind, I would like to speak to my son."

Starsky shrugged. "No, I don't mind," he responded innocently. He waved a hand like a game show host. "Please, speak."

"Alone."

"Dad," Hutch interrupted, rolling his eyes at his partner's response. "Starsky is the one you _should_ be talking to. I'm not even on duty." He waved his good hand at the sling that supported his left arm. "So I suggest you just tell us what happened at the airport today so that we can get to the bottom of this."

Richard took a deep breath and glared at his son for a moment before nodding crisply. "Fine. I arrived at LAX and disembarked, going straight to the baggage claim to retrieve my luggage."

Hutch opened the file in front of him and pulled out a photo of the gold suitcase. "This one."

Richard barely glanced at it. "Yes. When I was leaving baggage claim, two men accosted me and tried to take my suitcase. We struggled, a gun went off, then security arrived."

"Did you recognize either of them?" Hutch asked.

Richard shook his head.

"You didn't see either of them on the plane?" Starsky inquired.

"They weren't in First Class, no." the older man's voice was clipped, but a bit shaky, telling the detective he wasn't as steady as he was trying to appear.

Whether Hutch was aware enough to catch the unsteadiness in his father's voice or not was something Starsky couldn't be sure of. He watched for a moment as his partner tiredly rubbed at the crease between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth tight. He knew Hutch was in pain, and he knew dealing with his father was piling more stress than the blond needed at the moment. Pushing off the wall, Starsky stepped over to the table and leaned forward, pressing both fists onto the wooden surface. "Think you can give us a description?" He asked, forcing the older man to turn to him, allowing his partner a chance to quietly regain his equilibrium.

"I don't really remember," Richard admitted. "It all happened so fast." He let his eyes drift down to the photo on the table, his head tilting, his mouth turning down into a frown.

"What?" Starsky asked. Years of experience in interrogating prisoners and witnesses had made him finely attuned to changes in expression.

"This suitcase," Richard pointed to the photo, turning it around and leaning forward to get a closer look at it. "It isn't mine."

Hutch's head came up and he exchanged a confused look with his partner. "What?"

"It's not mine."

"You just said it was."

Richard pushed the photo back across the table toward his son. "It looks like mine. But it isn't."

"This is the suitcase they found on you," Starsky stated bluntly.

"Yes," the older man huffed impatiently. "But it is not mine." He pointed to the brass handle clearly visible in the photo. "My bag is monogrammed. RKH. This one is clearly not. It's not my suitcase."

Hutch shook his head slowly. "Are you telling us you picked up the wrong luggage?"

Richard shrugged. "Apparently. It's a custom color. Your mother bought it for me so that I could easily recognize it. She thought it would save me time when traveling. I simply grabbed it without checking too closely, assuming it was mine."

"But this suitcase is not yours," Hutch clarified, pulling the photo toward him and lifting it for inspection.

"No," Richard shook his head.

Starsky pushed himself off the table and moved toward the door, waiting while his partner rose stiffly to follow.

"I'll be right back," the blond informed his father, receiving an impatient huff in response.

Hutch stepped in front of his partner and into the hallway, leaning back against the wall as Starsky quietly closed the door to the interrogation room.

"You think he's telling the truth?"

Hutch nodded wearily. "Yeah. From what I remember, most of his luggage, his briefcases, everything he owned was monogrammed. Kind of a status symbol thing." He held up the photo. "Which leaves us the question of who this suitcase actually belongs to."

Starsky nodded, his mouth pursed in thought. "I've got a better one." He looked up at Hutch, his eyes wide with concern. "If your dad picked up this suitcase by mistake, did someone else pick up his? And can they trace it back to him?"

"They would've had to have the claim tickets to get it out of baggage claim," Hutch reasoned. "He probably would've realized his mistake when he saw his claim ticket didn't match the stub on the suitcase, right?"

"Probably," Starsky agreed. "But the shooters jumped the gun, thought they were being jacked and tried to take it first." He sighed and looked up at his friend. "It's not inconceivable that in the confusion that followed, someone was able to snatch your dad's suitcase. I'll have Dobey check with the airport to see if any luggage was left unclaimed."

Hutch took a deep breath. "You think he's in danger?"

Starsky shook his head. "Don't know. But I think we better find out."

shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Mason Peele slumped against the side of the phone booth as he lit a Marlboro, his eyes squinting against the midday sun. His gaze drifted through the hazy smoke that rose from the cigarette toward the front entrance of the police station across the street. Mr. Finch had ordered him and his partner to keep an eye on the man from the airport – for all the good it would do. Once they had taken the guy to Metro, along with, he assumed, the suitcase of coke, Finch had to realize he'd need to just accept the loss. If the cops had the drugs, there was no way they were going to be able to get them back.

They'd barely made it out of the airport without being snagged by security, and now they were here, hanging outside the downtown police precinct like two ordinary citizens. He had to admit that made him pretty nervous. It's not like the old man had even known who they were – at least he didn't seem to. But Finch was adamant about knowing who had the balls to try and steal his merchandise, and once Mr. Finch had his ire up, there was no talking him down. Whoever this guy was, Finch was determined to figure out who he worked for and how he had known about the shipment. He'd seemed to know exactly which suitcase to take, hadn't hesitated a second when the gold piece of luggage had slid down the chute and onto the revolving luggage carousel, but Peele couldn't forget the look of surprise on the guy's face when they'd demanded he turn it over to them. He hadn't been afraid – more like arrogant. Like the suitcase was truly his and he was affronted that anyone would expect him to give it up.

While he was playing the scene from the airport back in his head, the front doors of the station opened and three men stepped out and slowly began to make their way down the steps. To his surprise, Peele recognized all three.

"Well, I'll be damned…" Peele breathed as he tossed the cigarette to the ground and quickly stepped into the phone booth. He dialed the number by heart, not taking his eyes off the three men across the street.

"Boss," he said the moment the line was picked up. "I got eyes on our guy outside Metro. He's with two cops by the names of Starsky and Hutchinson."

"_Hutchinson,"_ the voice on the other end echoed. _"That's very interesting. According to the information we found in the duplicate suitcase, our friend from the airport is a Dr. Richard Hutchinson. And I have it on very good authority, this Dr. Hutchinson has a son who just happens to be a detective right here in Bay City. Are you sure it's him?"_

Peele grinned as the three men made it to the bottom of the cement steps and approached the red and white Torino sitting directly in front of the building. "I've had the pleasure of making Detective Hutchinson's acquaintance before, sir. He's a little older than the last time we met, and he's got a cheesy moustache now, but yeah, it's the same guy. I'm not about to forget him – or his partner."

"_Yes, so I've heard."_ The voice was thoughtful and Peele watched the three men get into the car as he waited for orders. _"Follow them. If you see an opportunity, take it. The police may have my merchandise, but maybe we can find a way to persuade them to return it to me."_

"Yes, sir." He quickly hung up and made his way down the street to the dark blue Lincoln parked a few spaces down. He hopped into the passenger seat and nodded to the driver. "Boss wants us to tail 'em." He pointed to the Torino as it slowly pulled out into traffic. "Step on it."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

The Torino pulled up in the empty space in front of Venice Place and Starsky killed the engine. He jumped out and hustled around to the passenger side just as Hutch was pulling himself carefully from the car. Stepping close, Starsky wrapped a hand around his partner's good arm and steadied him as he got to his feet.

"You sure this is a good idea?"

Hutch sighed tiredly. "You got a better one?" he snapped. "You heard him, he wasn't about to stay at the precinct, we can't exactly protect him at a hotel, and could you see us stashing him at one of the flop joints we use for safe houses?"

Starsky heard the irritation in his partner's voice, knowing it wasn't truly directed at him. They'd been able to convince Dobey that the bag they'd found the drugs in wasn't Richard Hutchinson's, and they'd been able to talk the captain into releasing the good doctor into their custody, promising to keep him apprised of all developments in the case. "I hear ya, buddy. But Anderson said there was no unclaimed baggage left from your dad's flight, which means –"

"There's a chance someone has his stuff, and they know who he is, his itinerary, where he's staying…"

"And it wouldn't take a genius to tie him to you."

Hutch sighed and leaned back against the car, his exhaustion showing in the slump of his shoulders. "I know, Starsk, but we need to get a look at those tapes from the airport and we can't exactly take him with us. We need to get him out of sight for a while. This is all I can think of for now."

Starsky nodded, reaching up to squeeze his partner's good arm in understanding. "Okay." He knew Hutch was at the end of his rope. The ache from his wound, coupled with the stress of dealing with his father and the new worry that the older man could actually be in danger was taking its toll, and the blond was completely wiped. His face was pale, his mouth and eyes pinched in pain.

"Look, we'll get your dad squared away here, get you into bed – ah ah, no argument." Starsky raised a finger as Hutch opened his mouth to protest. "You get a couple of hours rest and I'll check into finding a safer place to stash your dad. Then we'll head back to the airport. By then Anderson should have those tapes ready for us. Huh? Deal?"

Hutch grinned lopsidedly and nodded. "Deal."

With a satisfied smile, Starsky stepped forward, pushed the passenger seat of the Torino up and leaned in. "We're moving straight through the door," he instructed Richard as he pointed at the entrance to the stairway that lead up to Hutch's apartment. "It's temporary, but we'll stay here until we can come up with a plan."

Without a word, Richard crawled out of the backseat, glanced at his son and moved off as Starsky took his arm and led him through the doorway. Thankful that his partner had taken control, efficiently handling his father, Hutch slowly closed the door to the Torino and wearily followed, unaware of the dark blue Lincoln that pulled into a parking space just down the street.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshsh

By the time Hutch caught up with the other two inside the building, Starsky was already on the phone to the precinct and Richard was moving around, hands clasped behind his back, inspecting every corner of the small apartment. Though his parents had been to his cottage on the canal once many years ago, finding it 'quaint' in his mother's words, they had never seen this place and Hutch found himself resenting his father's inspection of his comfortable home. He sighed as he shut the door, clicking the lock in place and headed straight to the refrigerator. As he pulled a beer from inside and popped off the top, he turned to see Starsky finish the call and hang up the phone.

The dark haired detective sauntered over, noting but not commenting as Richard roamed into the greenhouse. He grabbed the beer from his partner before he could take a sip. "Thanks," he smiled. "I'm parched." He took a long pull from the bottle, his eyes twinkling, before handing it back. "You shouldn't be drinking," he admonished.

"Drug of choice," Hutch countered as he tilted the bottle up and took a small sip. The beer didn't taste as good as he'd hoped, the throbbing pain from his chest beginning to override his other senses.

"We should probably do something about that."

Hutch shrugged his good shoulder and leaned back against the refrigerator, closing his eyes and sliding the cool bottle across his forehead. "It's Okay, Starsk," he lied smoothly. "Doesn't hurt too bad anymore."

"Right," Starsky snorted a laugh, seeing straight through his partner with practiced ease. "But even if that were true, you should be on antibiotics all the same. Gunshot wounds ain't nothing to play around with."

Hutch sighed in agreement. "Yeah, probably. I call the hospital later. Right now I just want to crash for a while."

Starsky nodded, happy at his partner's easy capitulation. "Why don't you go lay down? I'll call your doc and see if we can get something sent over. Then I'll call around and see if I can find better accommodations for our guest." He truly wanted to let his partner rest while he drove back to the airport and checked out the tapes, but he knew Hutch wouldn't agree. Hutch needed to be involved in this, and Starsky needed to know his partner was okay. Hutch was in some serious pain, but he was still on edge about his father, and Starsky knew his friend wouldn't sit back and let someone else handle this – even though it would be the best thing for him. So Starsky had resigned himself to keeping the big lug with him. That way he could keep an eye on him, for no other reason than to be close enough to catch him when he finally depleted his reserves and fell flat on his face.

With a weary nod, Hutch handed the opened beer to Starsky and trudged past the couch toward the sleeping alcove, falling bonelessly onto the bed, not even bothering to remove his sling. Within moments he was asleep.

Starsky downed the rest of the beer and placed it on the counter as Richard quietly walked toward the kitchen. He stopped at the table and pulled out a chair, dropping into it tiredly.

"You want a beer?" Starsky inquired. "Coffee? Juice? Not sure if Hutch has anything else around here."

Richard nodded toward the coffee pot on the back burner of the stove. "I wouldn't turn down a hot cup of coffee."

"You got it." Starsky reached up into a cupboard, pulling down the can of ground coffee, filling the pot with water and setting it on the stove to brew. He was acutely aware of Hutch's father watching him, no doubt judging how comfortable Starsky seemed in his son's kitchen. He knew that despite Hutch's proclamation to the contrary, the estrangement from his family still ate away at the blond. Like any good son, he still yearned for his father's approval – which is why it was so easy for him to be put out by his father's unexpected presence. But Starsky was under no such illusion. His emotions ran more toward anger and pity for Richard Hutchinson. Anger because of the way he had easily dismissed his own son when Hutch had stood up for himself and refused to follow the plan his father had laid down for him, and pity because Richard still couldn't see what kind of a man his son had become. Without a word, he pulled two mugs from the strainer beside the sink and turned to set them on the table.

"What happened to him?"

The question – and the concerned voice behind it - caught the dark haired detective off guard.

"I think that's something you should ask him."

Richard laughed, but Starsky could detect no humor in the sound. "David, we both know that Ken isn't exactly forthcoming when it comes to keeping me informed about his life."

_And whose fault is that?_ Starsky thought darkly. His eyes traced up toward the sleeping alcove where he could see the lower half of his partner's body, still and relaxed. He was sure Hutch was asleep, the pain and stress taking its toll. With a sigh, he rubbed at his chin and turned back to the counter, snapping the lid back onto the coffee canister and replacing it in the cupboard above the sink. "He was shot."

"I gathered," Richard said, his voice subdued. "How?"

Starsky hesitated, not sure if Hutch would want his father to know the dangers of their job. He mentally shrugged, deciding that maybe it would help Richard to learn a few realities of their world. Starsky suddenly realized he wanted Richard Hutchinson to know how brave and caring his son was. How his unique empathy toward the people they dealt with on the streets made him not just a better cop, but a better man.

"We were heading off duty and a call came in for a 459 – a burglary in progress - at a residence a few blocks from our location." He kept his voice low but had turned toward the table, his back leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. "Hutch went around back and I went through the front. Before I could get inside, I heard a shot fired. I knew it wasn't from Hutch's gun, so I broke through the front window. I nailed the kid who was in the front room, the other one got away."

"The one who shot Ken," Richard clarified.

"Yeah." Starsky sighed, remembering how scared he'd been when he'd looked down that hallway to see his partner slumped against the wall, blood coating his jacket. "It was another kid. A teenaged girl. Hutch had his gun out but he couldn't pull the trigger." Starsky shrugged. "He kept saying she was just a kid."

Richard nodded. "He didn't shoot?"

"No. He could never shoot a kid. Hutch just ain't built that way."

"But the girl had no trouble firing on Ken."

Starsky shrugged. "Sometimes people ain't what they seem. Hutch saw a kid, she saw a threat. So she fired."

"Did you arrest her?"

Starsky nodded. "Yeah. Turned out some jerk was using these kids to boost stuff from houses while the owners were on vacation. Hutch actually figured it out. We got the girl, some of the other kids and the turkey running the operation. Recovered a lot of stolen merchandise, too."

"So you consider this a successful case?"

Starsky wasn't sure if he detected an air of derision in the man's voice or not, and he found that he really didn't care. "Outside of Hutch getting hurt, yeah. We got the bad guys, we recovered the property, which will be returned to the victims, and we took down an operation that was using these kids to do the dirty work. We didn't get them all, but we stopped the guy who was preying on them. So yes. I'd say it was a good bust."

Before they could take the conversation any further, the pot on the stove began to hiss, signaling the coffee was done and Starsky poured himself a cup, setting the pot on a potholder on the table. "Help yourself," he sipped at the hot liquid as he stepped away from the table. "I have a few calls to make." With that, he left Richard Hutchinson to his own thoughts.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Starsky replaced the phone and leaned back into the couch, rubbing both hands down his face wearily. Maybe he needed a nap as bad as Hutch. As his partner's name filtered into his mind, he found himself pushing off the couch and drifting quietly toward the sleeping alcove, grateful to see the blond breathing steadily, his body relaxed into the soft mattress. His mouth and eyes were still pinched in pain, even in sleep, and he lay on his right side, his left arm cradled in the sling against his body.

Starsky knew from experience that gunshot wounds hurt like hell. Even with the aid of painkillers, any movement ached and fighting the pain – even dulled – took its toll. Since Hutch had left the hospital earlier, he'd been cut off from any kind of pharmaceutical relief, not to mention the fact that wounds like this could easily become infected and cause even greater problems if not properly looked after. He knew they would have to change the dressing on the wound soon, but Starsky had wanted to get something that would take the edge off the pain before tackling that.

His first call had been to the doctor who had treated Hutch in the hospital. The man had not been amused at his patient's escape and had tried to talk Starsky into returning him into their care. He'd finally convinced the doctor that Hutch wasn't about to return under the circumstances and he'd finally relented, calling in a prescription for some mild painkillers and antibiotics. The pharmacy was only a few blocks away but Starsky was reluctant about leaving while Hutch was asleep. He contemplated waking his partner, but hesitated, not wanting to disturb him unless absolutely necessary.

"We'll be fine."

Starsky turned his head to see Richard standing in the doorway to the greenhouse, silhouetted against the sun streaming through the glass windows.

"I heard you talking to the doctor," the older man continued. "If I know my son, you'll probably have a battle on your hands getting him to take the Percocet, but getting him to accept the antibiotic should be a little easier." He moved over toward the bed, standing a few feet from Starsky, his eyes on the sleeping man before them. "He needs it. It's important."

"Is that your professional medical opinion, Doctor?"

Richard huffed a laugh. "Yes, Detective. It is."

Starsky grinned, glad to have found a common ground with the man. "The pharmacy is a few blocks down the street. I can be back in ten minutes."

Richard nodded. "Go. We'll be fine. Nobody knows we're here, correct?"

"Yeah," Starsky sighed. "Just lock the door behind me and don't open it for anyone until I get back."

"Understood."

Starsky took a deep breath, decision made, and headed for the door. He hated to leave, but like Dr. Hutchinson had stated, it was important. Hutch was pushing himself because of the situation, and Starsky couldn't work the case and watch out for Hutch and his father both. He needed his partner if they were going to figure out who was behind this and his partner was going to need the drugs in order to function.

He quickly made his way down the stairs and hopped into the Torino. He gunned the engine and pulled out into the light early evening traffic, unaware of the two men slouched in the black sedan, watching from down the street.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

"Starsky's leaving," Peele commented. His eyes traveled back up to the windows of the apartment above the restaurant. "That just leaves Hutchinson and his old man."

"And the blond cop had his arm in a sling," his partner added.

"Yeah, he didn't look so good, did he?" Peele pulled a gun from inside his jacket and checked the chamber, snapping the cylinder back with practiced ease. "I'm thinking this is the opportunity we've been waiting for." He returned his partner's grin and they both eased themselves from the car.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Richard stood near the bottom of the bed, his eyes glued to the sleeping form of his son.

Ken looked… older. Harder. No longer the golden boy he had tried so hard to mold into a proper young man. It was exactly what he'd been afraid of when Ken had informed them of his decision to become a police officer. He still couldn't reconcile his son's decision, knowing the potential the young man possessed. Why he would want to spend his life in this kind of existence was beyond Richard. He had had such a promising future, and he'd chosen to throw it all away. For what? Playing cops and robbers like some irresponsible child?

To be fair, Richard knew what his son did for a living wasn't a game. It was painfully obvious what kind of danger his son faced. One only needed to look at the lines on his face and the slump of his shoulders to see how much the job had cost him. And now he was lying there, a bullet hole in his chest, weak and in pain. What father would be okay with that?

He'd tried to talk him out of his foolish decision to leave medical school and attend the police academy at first, but Ken had been adamant. He referred to it as his calling – what he believed was his way to help people, to protect and keep them safe. And meeting David Starsky had sealed the deal – a fact Richard would probably never forgive the man for. Ken had kept in touch for a while, but soon the realities of his job had begun to take their toll and he'd communicated with them less and less until the only calls they'd received had been during the holidays or when he'd been injured or sick. And most of the latter were from his partner informing them of what tragedies had befallen him until Ken called himself weeks later to tell them he was 'fine'.

It had started to upset his mother, and after Ken had fallen ill the last time due to some virus spread by a hit man of all things, Richard had let him know they didn't appreciate hearing from their son only in times of crisis. After that, the calls had stopped completely.

When the conference in Bay City had come up, Richard had been hesitant to accept the invitation, not knowing if he would be able to quell the urge to see his son when it was so obvious Kenneth had no desire to spend time with him. If he was being honest, he would admit that some of the blame for their estrangement lay on his own shoulders, but communication went both ways and obviously Ken had decided that he was better off without his family.

He hadn't even bothered to let them know he'd been shot.

And David hadn't called this time either.

If it hadn't been for the situation at the airport, Richard didn't know if he would have made the effort to see his son. He wasn't about to intrude into Ken's life if he wasn't welcome.

But here he was.

In his son's home.

And he felt… awkward. Like he was watching a stranger. This… man… this policeman… was not the young man he'd known. Detective Hutchinson – Hutch – was someone he didn't recognize. He was surprised to find that it hurt, and for the first time in his life, he had no idea how to handle it.

A knock on the door drew his attention and he slowly crossed the small apartment. Starsky's warning rolled through his head and stayed his hand as he reached for the lock.

"Yes?" He asked, clearing his throat to add an air of authority despite his caution. "Who is it?"

"Officer Pierson, Sir. Headquarters sent me here to deliver some information to Detective Hutchinson."

Hearing that it was another officer, Richard snapped the deadbolt and pulled open the door as far as the security chain allowed, intent on retrieving the information and explaining he would have to wait for Detective Starsky to return for anything further. Before he could utter a word, the door was forcibly kicked in. The chain snapped as the door flew open to slam against the wall, the impact knocking him backwards into the couch and onto the floor.

"What in God's name…" he began to sputter, his mouth going dry and his eyes widening as two men stalked into the room, guns raised at him.

"Dr. Hutchinson, I presume," one of the men moved toward him while the other began to stalking through the apartment. "I believe you have something that belongs to us."

A loud bang sounded from the sleeping alcove and Richard's heart stopped as he watched his son and the other man fly backward out of the small area, landing hard on the floor near the door to the greenhouse. Ken had the intruder's wrist locked in his one good hand, pinning it to the carpet by sheer strength as he used his knee to strike at the man's stomach. The assailant cried out as the air rushed from his lungs and gasped as he tried to breathe, dropping the weapon as Hutch slammed his arm against the floor.

The man who'd advanced on Richard turned at the sound of the struggle, sensing his accomplice was in trouble and raised his own weapon toward the two grappling men. Richard swallowed his fear and without thought swung a leg out, catching the second intruder behind the knee and knocking him to the floor.

There was a rush of footsteps and a thundering yell from the hallway and suddenly the man was knocked sideways into the coffee table as Starsky rushed into the room. He grabbed the man by his coat and swung him around into the wall, his head making a loud cracking sound as it connected with the wood.

Richard huffed in relief as Starsky stepped back, allowing the stunned assailant to slide down to the floor, semi-conscious. He watched as his son's partner quickly turned toward the other assailant who had gotten the upper hand and was now straddling the wounded man, his arm back, his intent to throw a brutal punch toward Ken's face imminently clear.

"Huuutch!" Starsky nearly flew across the small space and knocked the man from his perch above Hutch. He rolled as momentum carried both men to the far side of the room. Starsky tucked his body as the impetus took him through the door of the greenhouse, while the assailant was able to check himself against the far wall. Before the detective could rebound, the man was up and staggering past a stunned Hutch, toward the open doorway. Without a look back, the gunman grabbed his companion who was pushing himself back to a standing position and hurried out, stumbling down the steps to the car parked on the street below. Starsky rushed past Richard to followed them, weapon drawn, and the doctor could hear the rapid firing of a gun as a car screeched away.

It was all over in seconds.

Richard was still trying to catch his breath as Starsky ran back into the apartment, stopping briefly to visually check him over before continuing on to Hutch. The blond was lying on his side, his eyes squeezed shut, his face pinched in a grimace of pain.

"Hey, hey," Starsky knelt next to his friend as Richard pushed himself up from his spot on the floor. "Easy, babe. Take it easy." His hands hovered over Hutch as the blond man rolled onto his back and pulled his wounded arm close to his chest. "You okay, Blondie?"

"Of course I'm not okay, dummy," Hutch responded petulantly, causing Starsky to sigh in relief. "Help me up."

Richard watched in wonder at the tenderness and care the dark haired man exhibited while helping his son to a seated position then plopped down behind him to allow Ken to lean back against his support.

Starsky craned his neck and glanced down at Hutch's face, the concern in his eyes palpable. "So, did you have a nice nap?"

"Depends," Hutch snorted a laugh, then winced as the motion caused the pain in his shoulder to flare. "Can you tell me the last 24 hours has been nothing but a bad dream?"

"'fraid not, partner." Starsky moved a hand to briefly brush the blond man's forehead. "You're kinda warm."

"I just woke up, mushbrain." Hutch pushed the hand away and forced himself to sit up on his own. "And went a couple rounds with an uninvited guest." He leaned his head forward as Starsky squeezed his good shoulder. "And I feel like crap."

Starsky smiled with unabashed affection. "You look worse."

"Thanks." Hutch stretched his back and rolled his neck. "Where's…" He looked around, his eyes finally landing on Richard's disheveled form, perched on the arm of the couch.

"You okay?"

"He's better than you." Starsky offered as the doctor gave them a hesitant nod. "You shoulda seen him take that turkey's feet right out from under him. It was a thing of beauty, pal."

Richard smiled hesitantly, his cheeks coloring at the praise. "I didn't know what else to do," he admitted with a shrug. "He had a gun…" 

"Well you did good, Doc." Starsky continued. "A great showing of the ol' Hutchinson bravado."

Hutch chuckled. "Hutchinson bravado, huh?"

Starsky shrugged. "Must be genetic." His smile sobered as he leaned forward, studying his partner's face carefully. "You recognize them?"

Hutch sighed and bowed his head, his right hand reaching up to knead the muscles at the back of his neck. "No. I don't think so. It happened too fast. And I was more concerned with the gun he was waving in my face."

Starsky shifted his gaze to Richard. "How about you? Either of them look familiar?"

The doctor shook his head slowly. "I… I'm not sure. They could've been the men at the airport but…." He finished with an apologetic shrug.

"So what now?" Hutch asked, his voice heavy. "Obviously they've connected dad to me already. I assume you managed to come up with a plan while I was indisposed?"

Starsky nodded and slapped a hand on his partner's thigh as he pushed himself up from the floor. "I figure we stash your dad at Huggy's for a few hours and head on over to the airport. Anderson said he's got the film ready for us to look at. I think it's high time we figured out all the players in this scenario."

Hutch nodded and took a deep breath before reaching up and allowing his partner to pull him off the carpet. He swayed for a moment as the edges of his vision grayed, grabbing onto Starsky's arm until he'd regained his equilibrium.

"You good?"

Hutch nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, just need a second."

Starsky led him back to the bed and sat him on the edge. "You're bleeding, ya know."

"Huh?" Hutch looked down, surprised to see a smudge of dark red on his shirt.

"Eloquent, Blintz," Starsky remarked. He pulled a crumpled, white paper bag from his pocket and tossed it on the bed next to Hutch. "Take those," he instructed. "Doctor says you need the antibiotic in case of infection. I say you need the pain killer to function."

Before Hutch could protest, Richard moved toward them, adding his own opinion. "He's right, Ken. You can't work if you're in pain. And don't tell me that doesn't hurt, because you and I both know I know better." He turned to Starsky, professionalism replacing the fluster of moments ago. "If you can find me something to use as a bandage, I can check the wound and make sure he didn't pull out any of the sutures."

Starsky responded to the confidence in the doctor's voice. "Right," He headed to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit he knew his partner kept under the sink.

Richard turned to his son, one brow raised as he took in the younger man's condition. He took a deep breath, searching for the medical detachment he so often utilized, but found it difficult to obtain at the moment. This was not some faceless, nameless patient. It wasn't just a police officer. This was his son, a man who, though wounded, had fought off an assailant in order to protect him. He found himself at a loss as to how to proceed. "Kenneth, I'd like to help you, if you'd let me."

Shshshshshshshshshs

Not knowing how to respond to the concern he thought he saw in his father's eyes, Hutch had simply nodded, allowing the man to peel back the shirt and take a look at the bleeding shoulder. Starsky returned with the first aid kit, and they all spent an awkward eternity while Richard cleaned and redressed the wound with professional detachment. Once the doctor had rebandaged the wound and stepped back, Starsky thrust a glass of water and two pills into Hutch's good hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with Richard until he swallowed both.

He felt like he was in a bad daytime soap.

Once he had complied, Starsky allowed him up as he pocketed the pill bottles and they quietly and cautiously made their way down the stairs and out to the Torino.

The traffic was light and they managed to pull into the back parking lot of The Pits less than thirty minutes later. The back door was unlocked and they ducked in and headed through the kitchen to the back office quickly. The room above Huggy's old place had been one of their favorite hide outs, but the new bar was in a one-story cement faced building, so Huggy had turned a small back room into an office and lounge, complete with couch and small black and white television. It wasn't as large and comfortable as the upstairs apartment had been – and neither wanted to try to ride out anything like they had after Hutch had been abducted by Ben Forest all those years ago – but it worked well when they needed a place to lay low and regroup and that was exactly what they needed now. They'd both suspected the remodel was something their friend had done for their benefit as much as his own, but they had never asked and Huggy had never mentioned it. They just took it on faith that their friendship with the bar owner was important enough to warrant him providing a place they could occasionally take shelter from the storm that was their lives.

Huggy joined them after a few moments, shaking Richard's hand and assuring the detectives that he would be safe for the time being. Starsky had already explained the situation to the flamboyant bar owner, and Hutch was confident his father would be secure – if not comfortable – for a couple of hours while they checked a few things out.

Richard, on the other hand, was not as convinced.

"You're not actually leaving me here in this place alone and going after these people?" The older man asked incredulously as soon as Huggy has left them to return to the restaurant. "They tried to kill us! They're obviously dangerous!"

Hutch steered his father to the couch and pushed him down onto the leather cushion. Starsky quietly stood back beside the door letting his partner handle the situation. "You'll be safe here, Dad. I promise. Huggy knows –"

"I don't care what he knows, Kenneth. Let Starsky go. You are in no condition to be running around out there playing hero."

"The man's got a point," Starsky mumbled.

Hutch threw him a glare before returning his attention to his father. "You just said these guys were dangerous. I'm not letting Starsky out there without someone to watch his back. That someone is me. I'm a cop, Dad. It's my job."

"Your job? You could -"

"I can't!" Hutch's voice rose in frustration. "I can't ask my partner or anyone else to risk their life for something I should be doing myself."

Richard's voice rose in response. "But I don't want you to risk yours either!"

Hutch stepped back and took a deep breath. "I appreciate that, Dad, but Starsky and I know what we're doing. We'll be fine." He held up his good hand to halt his father's argument. "Just stay here, out of sight. Huggy will get you anything you need. We'll be back." He abruptly turned and pulled open the door. "I'll talk to Huggy," he growled to his partner before storming through and disappearing into the busy kitchen.

"Can you believe that?" Starsky turned his attention back to the man on the couch as Richard waved a hand toward his retreating son. "I'm only concerned for his welfare, and he's going to walk right into danger just to spite me!" He stood, hands crossed over his chest and stared at Starsky. "I know you agree with me, David. Can't you do something?"

Starsky pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps toward the desk tucked into the corner of the room. "Like he said, Mr. Hutchinson, it's our job."

"Your job?" the older man repeated. "How can you say that? You know he's hurt. You can't possibly think he's able to –"

"Hutch is a good cop," Starsky interrupted, his voice low and calm. "He can handle it."

"Despite what you may think, I know my son. He's not cut out for this."

Starsky sighed and rubbed at his face. He understood the frustration both Hutch and his father were feeling, and he wished there was a way to make things easier for them both. If only Hutch's father would listen and understand how important what they did was to Hutch. That's all his partner had ever wanted – some kind of support for his decisions about his own life. The dark haired detective leaned back against the desk and raised his eyes to meet the older man's.

"My father was a cop," he said softly. "A beat cop in New York. He was killed in the line of duty when I was twelve."

Richard returned his gaze, his brows furrowed in confusion. It was obvious he didn't understand why Starsky was telling him this, but he was listening nonetheless. "So you became a policeman to honor your father? Despite what happened to him?"

Starsky nodded. "That was part of it. But a bigger part was to honor why my dad became a cop in the first place. He wanted to make the world a safer place and help people. That was his way of contributing, of accomplishing that."

"A noble cause," Richard acknowledged. "I can understand why it would make sense for you, David, you wanted to honor your father. But not for Ken. He's not cut out for this kind of life."

Starsky accepted Richard's recognition. "I'm a cop because my dad was. I'll admit that. But he was a cop because he wanted to make a difference. What you don't seem to understand is that's the exact reason your son sits beside me in that car every day. And personally, I think that makes him the better cop… and maybe the better man."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Starsky made his way out to the parking lot, sighing as he took in the sight of his agitated partner pacing beside the Torino.

"Can you believe him?" Hutch asked as soon as Starsky approached. "He just doesn't get it."

"He's worried about you."

Hutch stopped pacing and slumped against the car's fender, one hand coming up to rub against his forehead. "I wish I could believe that."

Starsky grinned and rubbed a hand on the bowed back in sympathy. "Well, Partner, what d'ya say we go catch the bad guys first and figure out what to do about all this family crap later?"

Hutch grinned wearily and pushed himself off the car, stepping toward the passenger side door. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, buddy. I guess I'm just... frustrated."

Starsky made his way around the vehicle and pulled open his own door, eyeing his partner across the top of the car. "And exhausted, and in pain… face it, Hutch, you're not exactly at your best with extra holes in your body."

Hutch huffed a laugh as he lowered himself into the familiar leather of the Torino. "Guess it's a good thing I've got you then, huh?"

"Yep," Starsky agreed as he started the car, the roar of the engine filling the narrow lot. "You are one lucky dog."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshssh

They were ushered into Lt. Anderson's office upon their arrival at LAX and shook hands with the man they had talked to the year before when they were looking for clues as to what could've possible happened to their friend, Lt. Jake Donner who had rapidly fallen ill and died only days after his return to the city. The airport Security Chief had been extremely helpful, pulling out all stops to get them whatever they needed to solve the case. They only hoped he would be as obliging this time.

"Detectives," Robert Anderson greeted them both with a smile and firm handshake. "Your captain explained the situation." He nodded toward Hutch who had taken a seat in one of the padded chairs in front of the large wooden desk. "I'm sorry to hear the man my guards apprehended was your father."

Hutch smiled tightly. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson. We appreciate your cooperation. I'm sure you must be very busy."

Anderson waved the comment off. "Never too busy to help out the police department." He motioned to a large television monitor that sat on a rolling cart behind him. "I've got the tapes cued up to the incident in question."

"So your cameras did capture the event?" Starsky perched on the arm of Hutch's chair, his attention on the blank screen before them.

"We've upgraded our security since the last time we met," Anderson explained. "We still have the camera's that snap a photo every three seconds, but we've added state-of-the-art closed circuit video cameras mounted in all the concourses as well as the main terminal and baggage claim. We also have full time security personnel monitoring the feeds 24/7. That was how we were able to get guards to baggage claim so quickly when the scuffle broke out."

"Impressive," Starsky nodded admiringly. "I wish we could blanket the city like that. It would make our job a lot easier."

Anderson chuckled in response. "It's more costly and labor intensive, but we feel it's made the airport a safer place overall." He pushed the button on a large, square video player situated on a shelf below the monitor and stepped back, allowing both detective full view of the screen. The image was grainy and black and white, shot from a high angle, but neither had any trouble recognizing the baggage claim area of the airport. After a moment, Hutch was able to locate his father in the throng of people near one of the rotating luggage carousels.

"There," he pointed, his eyes tracking the familiar figure as he approached the carousel and waited as the luggage began to slide down from the chute at the top. All three men watched as the figure of Richard Hutchinson checked his watch impatiently, leaning to look down the long baggage conveyer.

"He does seem a little anxious," Starsky commented, drawing a glare from his partner.

"You've met the man," Hutch reminded him. "Does patience seem like one of his virtues?"

"Good point."

They continued to watch as Richard pulled a light colored suitcase from the conveyer and headed off toward the exit that led to the main terminal. They knew from the evidence photos the suitcase was gold, but the black and white video only showed light gray. Halfway to the security guard at the exit, two men came up behind Richard and tried to pull the suitcase from his grasp. He pulled back defensively and one of the men pulled a gun and stuck it in Richard's face. Surprise and fear forced him to step back into another gun held by the second man.

Hutch suddenly leaned forward in the chair, raised his arm and pointed toward the screen. "Can you freeze that?" he asked anxiously.

Anderson pushed a button on the video player and the image on the screen distorted slightly as it froze in place.

"I think that's the guy in my apartment," Hutch said after scrutinizing the frame for a moment.

"The one you fought with?" Starsky asked. "You sure?"

Hutch stared at the screen, eyes squinted for a long moment before shaking his head slowly. "No, I couldn't swear to it in court, but …"

"But?" Starsky echoed.

"I've seen him before… I just can't…" Hutch sighed in frustration. "I don't know."

"Good enough for me." Starsky squeezed the back of his friend's neck in support. He turned to Anderson who was still staring at the image on the screen. "How long would it take to get some blow-up prints of those two guys?"

Anderson crossed the small office and picked up a manila envelope from the surface. He held it out to Starsky with a smile. "No time at all, Detective. I anticipated your request."

"Oh," Starsky grinned. "That's terrific."

"There's more."

Both detectives turned to the security chief, brows raised in question. Without another word, Anderson pressed another button on the player and the image on the screen sprang to life once again, this time showing the action in fast forward. After a few moments, he froze it again.

"There," he pointed in a repeat of Hutch's earlier motion.

The detectives stared at the image of a young woman, dressed in a long trench coat and floppy hat, who was plucking another light colored suitcase from the conveyer. Anderson hit play and the woman made her way out of baggage claim as the security guards were busy giving chase to the two gunmen and apprehending Richard.

"When your captain asked me if any luggage was left behind from that particular flight, I got to thinking that maybe someone had picked up the other suitcase. So I went back and looked at the tapes again and sure enough, this young lady walked right out under the noses of security while they were otherwise engaged." He shrugged in apology. "Not exactly by the book. I'm sorry we didn't catch that before."

"Understandable," Starsky assured him. "Your guys were focused on the gunmen and they already had Dr. Hutchinson. There's no way they could've been watching everyone with what was going down."

"Especially when that someone didn't want to be seen." Hutch added. "Is her photo in the envelope also?"

Anderson nodded. "Unfortunately, we couldn't get a good image of her face, she kept that hat down low and she was wearing sunglasses the entire time, but we included the best frame we could find."

Starsky stood and shook the man's hand. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson. You've been a tremendous help."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Once they were back in the car and away from the airport traffic, Hutch pulled the photos from the envelope and shuffled through them. He stared at the photo of the man he thought was the one he'd scuffled with back at his apartment, trying to find something that would convince him it was the same guy.

"You still think it's the same guy?" Starsky asked, as if reading his partner's mind.

Hutch sighed and slapped the photo against his leg. "I don't know, Starsk. I think it is… there's something about him…." He shook his head in frustration. "Now if you want to show me a picture of his gun, I could give you a positive ID."

Starsky huffed a laugh. "You always did have your priorities screwed up, partner."

Three beeps from the police radio caught their attention as the dispatcher's voice came across the airwaves. _"Attention all available units, reports of shots fired at 1348 6__th__ Street."_

The familiar address had Starsky pressing down on the accelerator and Hutch reaching for the mic. "Control this is Zebra 3, we are responding to the shots fired. ETA 15 minutes"

"_10-4 Zebra 3, Bakers 6 and 12 are three minutes out. Will advise of your arrival."_

Hutch replaced the mic and grabbed the mars light from under the seat as Starsky flipped on the siren. They exchanged a grim look, both knowing a report of shots fired at The Pitts spelled trouble for both Hutch's dad and Huggy.

"They're okay, Hutch." Starsky tried to reassure his friend. "Huggy don't go down easy, you know that."

"Yeah, I know." Hutch rubbed at his forehead, his elbow braced on the side window as Starsky took an off ramp at high speed. "I should never have left him there."

"It was the best we could do. Don't beat yourself up over this, buddy." Starsky kept his eyes forward as he weaved through the traffic. "We'll ID these guys soon. We'll find out who we're dealing with and we'll keep your dad safe."

Hutch simply nodded, the gnawing pain in his chest having little to do with the bullet wound.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

By the time Starsky screeched to a stop in front of The Pitts, there were already three black and white units at the scene. Without waiting for the car to come to a complete stop, Hutch threw open the passenger side door and bound out of the car, his long legs eating up the pavement between the street and the front door of the bar, followed closely by his partner. Inside, they quickly spotted Huggy, giving a statement to one of the uniformed officers at the far end of the bar.

"Huggy!" Hutch hurried to the bar owner, muscling in between the lanky black man and the uniformed officer.

Before the uniform could protest, Starsky placed a placating hand on his shoulder and pulled him away. "We'll take it from here," he told the officer authoritatively.

The officer nodded reluctantly and stepped back to confer with one of the other officers who was interviewing one of the other patrons.

"What happened?" Hutch asked between heavy breaths. "Where's my dad?"

Huggy was holding a towel up to the side of his head, blood staining the cloth. "I'm sorry, Hutch. They just came in and shot up the place."

Hutch pushed past the barkeep, his intent to check the back room obvious. Starsky stepped forward and pulled Huggy's hand down, his eyes taking in the sluggishly bleeding cut on the side of his friend's head.

"You okay?"

Huggy sighed and nodded. "Yeah. One of 'em bopped me on the side of the head with his gun and all I saw was stars for the next few minutes."

Starsky ran his eyes over the man, concluding he was being truthful about his condition and was suffering from nothing more than a headache and self-recrimination.

"You recognize them?"

"Yeah," Huggy's eyes flashed his anger as he replaced the towel against the bleeding cut. "The one who clocked me was a low life scum who goes by the name Peele. Last I heard he was working for some new cat in town named Finch. " He leaned forward and lowered his voice, his eyes darting back toward the kitchen door that Hutch had disappeared through moments before. "Word on the street is this Finch dude supposedly took over Ben Forest's action."

Starsky's eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat at the mention of the mobster's name. "Forest? Damnit."

"I hear ya. Blondie's not gonna be too thrilled to hear that name come up. That is if you plan on telling him."

Starsky sighed and shook his head. "I'll cross that bridge when I have to. He's got enough on his plate without bringing up old ghosts. Forest is still in prison where he's gonna stay for a long time. He can't hurt Hutch anymore. But who's this Finch guy?"

Huggy shook his head and tossed the towel onto the bar. "I don't know, but from what I've heard, this guy has connections back out in the desert, if you get my drift."

Starsky sighed, lowered his head and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Ben Forest had come to Bay City from Las Vegas to find Jeannie Walton – a girl who'd run from him and his way of life only to find a knight in shining armor named Hutchinson. He'd had his men kidnap and beat Hutch to find out where Jeannie was hiding and, when that didn't work, had strung him out on heroin. Once he was hooked, Forest had stopped juicing him and let the withdrawal do his dirty work for him. The pain of the withdrawal had done what the physical beatings could not. Hutch had eventually broken, telling them where Jeannie was – something he had never fully forgiven himself for no matter how much Starsky had tried to convince him he wasn't at fault. It had all happened well over three years ago, but the forced addiction still haunted them both and Ben Forest was still one of the most frightening demons stalking Hutch's nightmares.

Before Starsky could respond, Hutch returned, his face flushed with pain and worry. "Huggy?"

"Sorry, my friend. Like I was about to tell your partner here, these two dudes busted in, started shooting up the place. When your dad poked his head out to see what was going on, they grabbed him and took off before I could stop 'em." He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and looked around before handing it to Hutch. "They said to make sure you got this."

Hutch swallowed and took the paper from Huggy, struggling to open it with one hand.

_We have what you want, you have what we want. Even exchange. Stay by the phone for further instructions. _

"Damnit!" Starsky swore under his breath after reading the note.

"If they hurt him…" Hutch wiped the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand.

Starsky squeezed the back of his partner's neck. "We'll get him back, buddy. I promise we'll get him back."

Hutch sighed and deflated as he leaned heavily on one elbow against the bar. He dropped his head and let his hand fall to cover his eyes as Starsky raised his to rub the back of Hutch's wounded shoulder. Without breaking contact with his partner, Starsky pulled the manila envelope they had received at the airport from inside his jacket and dropped it onto the bar's surface. "These the guys you tangled with, Hug?"

Huggy moved behind the bar and picked up the envelope, sliding the photos from inside. Without hesitation he nodded and dropped the first one onto the bar top. "That's Peele," he stated, his eyes darting between the photo and the two cops on the other side.

Starsky nodded. "That's the one Hutch thought he recognized from earlier in his apartment."

"Never saw this other dude 'til he busted in here with Peele. Don't' know his story. Must've come in with Finch."

"Who's Finch?" Hutch lifted his head wearily. He was obviously hurting – physically as well as emotionally - but his eyes were clear and focused for the moment.

"We think he's the guy who's pulling the strings." Starsky informed him. He tapped the photos on the bar. "These two clowns probably work for him."

"So you think this Finch character has my dad?"

Starsky shrugged. "It's the best lead we have right now. Huggy thinks he's connected so he's probably got enough juice to be importing smack from anywhere in the country. Your dad picking up the wrong suitcase probably put a small kink in his business."

Hutch squinted his eyes as he followed his partner's line of reasoning. "You think Finch was bringing in dope on that flight and my dad mistook the case with the smack as his own, and that's why those two goons jumped him in the airport?"

Starsky nodded and shrugged at the same time. "It makes sense."

Hutch was shaking his head in thought. "But how did they find him? They would've had his name and itinerary, but how did they find him at my place and how did they find him here?"

Starsky took a deep breath, hesitant to explain Finch's connection to the ghost from his partner's past. "It's not like we're unknown around here. We've made ourselves targets with a pretty good portion of the criminal population in this city." He hedged, hoping it would be enough to keep Hutch's curiosity satisfied. "I mean, it wouldn't take a genius to link Richard Hutchinson from Duluth, Minnesota right to you." He didn't want to outright lie to Hutch, but he didn't want to pile more onto the already burdened shoulders either. The small omission seemed an adequate compromise.

"It pays to be popular," Huggy quipped, helping with the feint.

Hutch sighed and nodded his head once, easily accepting the explanation, and the two other men exchanged a look of guilty relief.

"So this…" Hutch pounded his fist against the note that lay on the bar next to the photos. "We find Finch, we find my dad."

Starsky took a deep breath through his nose and released it before answering. He glanced again at Huggy then turned to his partner. "It's the best guess we have." He answered honestly. His eyes assessed his partner, taking in the pale skin and the pinch of pain around his eyes and mouth. "You think you're up for it?"

Hutch pushed himself up, squaring his shoulders. It was obvious he wasn't one hundred percent, but Starsky recognized the determination that had replaced the frustration in his eyes and he knew Hutch's anger and stubbornness was enough to temporarily override any physical discomfort he may be feeling. "Are we telling Dobey?"

"We'll have to in order to get the suitcase."

Hutch nodded. "So a bait and switch, huh? Dobey'll insist on back-up."

Starsky grinned. "I'll handle Dobey. I'll drop you off at your place. You can rest up and wait for the call."

"I'm not taking chances with my father's life, Starsk."

"Neither am I," the dark haired detective assured him. "But as long as Finch thinks he has the upper hand, we'll just bend the rules in our favor."

Hutch nodded, trusting his partner to think with his head even if Hutch wasn't quite sure he could do it himself. "What's your plan?"

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

Starsky dropped Hutch off at Venice Place, eliciting a promise to do nothing more strenuous than sit on the couch and wait for the phone to ring. He knew better than to ask his partner to get some sleep, but he hoped the inactivity would let Hutch doze despite his worry, and give his friend some much needed rest.

He had to admit he was worried. They'd both worked cases wounded before, and although Hutch was looking pale and worn because of the bullet wound to his chest, that wasn't what was troubling Starsky the most. While Hutch could be downright stoic when he was physically hurting, emotional pain poured out of him like a faucet. It was his eyes. When they'd coined the phrase 'the eyes are the window to the soul' they must have had his partner in mind. One look into those baby blues and you could read the depths of what he was feeling. From intense anger to extreme vulnerability, Starsky had always been able to read his partner's mood from a single glance at those piercing blue eyes.

And right now he could tell Hutch was reaching his limit. Having Richard here to begin with was something the blond was having trouble coping with. Despite his claims to have cut ties with his family, Starsky knew that deep down, Hutch longed for just a small bit of acceptance. Being a cop wasn't high on the Hutchinson scale of respectability, but it was something Hutch was proud of and he'd always kept the small hope alive that one day his parents would understand what this job meant to him and be proud of him. What son didn't want that? So, under normal circumstances, Starsky would be open to Dr. Hutchinson's presence in the hope that his partner could finally find what he needed in his father's eyes, but now was not normal circumstances. To have his father's life in danger, coupled with the guilt that he'd been snatched right out from under them, was more than Hutch's depleted energy could handle. And now with the specter of Forest hovering over them… Starsky just prayed Hutch would never have to find that part out.

Starsky knew Dobey would be adamant about following procedure, but Starsky would have to convince him to let them handle this their way. If Finch was anything like Forest, he wasn't going to be playing by the rules, and they couldn't afford to take a chance that the mobster would react to a police action and harm his hostage. They had to do this their way.

As he pulled the Torino into a slot in the lot behind the station, Starsky cut the engine and sat back against the familiar leather. He raised his hands and pushed the heels into his eye sockets, hoping to rub some of the frustration away. He'd promised Hutch they'd get his dad back safe. He just hoped like hell he could fulfill that promise.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Joan Meredith looked up as Starsky pushed his way through the squad room doors. She'd not seen or heard from her temporary partner since they'd parted ways back at the house where they'd arrested Lionel Train and the teenaged girl, Vivien. She'd been hesitant to split from Starsky there, but his expression had made it clear his first concern was the condition of the blond detective that had barreled in to their rescue, leaving her to deliver the report to Captain Dobey on her own. She'd been a little miffed at the curt dismissal considering everything they'd gone through in the last few days, but had clamped down on her emotions and done what was expected of her.

But she still wanted an explanation.

She felt as if Starsky was rejecting her, as if what they had shared between them, the relationship and trust they had built over the course of the last few days meant nothing in the wake of the return of his regular partner. She understood his concern over Hutchinson – the man had left the hospital to rescue them after all – but she had expected to see Starsky later, whether at the station to go over the reports or afterward at her apartment to go over something more intimate and fun. When she hadn't heard anything from him, she'd started to grow worried, then angry, wondering if he had simply been using her. She wasn't opposed to casual sex, especially with someone as attractive and alluring as David Starsky, but she'd believed it had been more than that. Now she wasn't so sure.

She'd heard of both Starsky and Hutchinson through the grapevine before she'd been assigned to work the case with him. Their close partnership wasn't a secret, but she was beginning to understand the stories hardly touched the surface. She'd never had a long-term partner that she'd gotten close to, so she was surprised at the depth of the concern Starsky had shown toward his injured partner at the scene. It wasn't like Hutchinson was keeling over in agony, but she had been a little surprised to see Starsky eagerly accept the captain's order to transport the blond back to the hospital. She'd waited, hoping to catch him when he returned after delivering Hutchinson, thinking they would wrap the case together. But hours later, she'd delivered her report to Dobey solo. Although it wasn't professional, she had to admit she'd been upset he hadn't returned. She thought she'd earned that kind of respect.

Starsky didn't seem to notice her as he strode purposely toward Captain Dobey's open door, his head down, his face composed in thought. He knocked once then entered without waiting for an answer, closing the door forcefully behind him. Meredith stared, wide-eyed, at the closed door, wondering – not for the first time – just where she fit in her 'partner's' world.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

"You know my rule, Starsky," Dobey bellowed. "No private parties!"

Starsky held a hand up to placate the irate man. "Nobody's asking for one, Cap'n, but this is Hutch's father. We just need to play it out till we can get him out safe."

Dobey sat back in his chair, his narrowed eyes regarding the man standing before him. "I know it's Hutchinson's father, damnit. Why do you think I've been giving the two of you so much leeway so far?"

Starsky bobbed his head in gratitude. "We know that. And we appreciate it. But this Finch character isn't gonna be playing by the rules, Cap."

"What about Hutchinson?" Dobey inquired, a note of concern leaking into the gruff voice. "He shouldn't even be involved. He should be in the hospital."

Starsky ran a hand down his face. "You don't think I know that? He's holding up – for now. But you know Hutch, he's not gonna stand down as long as his dad's neck is on the line."

"I could order him to."

Starsky let one side of his mouth rise in a sardonic grin. "You know Hutch follows orders about as well as I do."

Dobey huffed acknowledgement of the validity of the statement, eyeing his detective keenly. "There's something else you're not telling me."

Starsky plopped down into the chair in front of the desk, sliding down to slouch like an errant schoolboy. He clasped his hands together and studied them intently for a moment before responding quietly. "Finch is connected to Ben Forest."

Dobey's eyes widened in stunned surprise.

"Hutch doesn't know," Starsky added quickly. "And if I can help it, he won't. But you can see now why we need to take care of this without a lot of departmental interference."

Dobey nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think Forest is involved?"

"No. We don't have any evidence of that. But it wouldn't hurt to check and see if he's has had any visitors as of late."

"I'll run that down," the captain assured him.

Starsky nodded in appreciation before continuing his explanation. "One of the guys who broke into Hutch's place and snatched his dad from The Pitts use to be muscle for Forest. We got a photo of him from the airport security cameras and Huggy was able to give us a name. Peele. Hutch thought he looked familiar but wasn't sure."

Dobey scratched the name on a notepad. "We only caught Monk and one other guy back then. Hutch's statement said he believed there were three or four. Do you think this guy could've been one of the other men who kidnapped Hutch for Forest?"

Starsky shrugged. "I don't know. I've never seen him before and Hutch and I generally run into the same creeps. Once Huggy told me this Peele guy worked for Forest, that was the first thing I thought of. Hutch doesn't remember the goons who grabbed him, he was blindfolded most of the time or flying too high to I.D. them, but if he saw any of them – even if he doesn't consciously remember – that could be why he's recognizing this guy now."

They sat in silence for a moment, each man remembering the harrowing experience their friend had endured all those years ago.

"So," Dobey finally broke the silence. "I'm assuming you have something in mind?"

"We've got plan… if you could call it that."

"I still want back-up there." Dobey pointed a finger at the detective, his eyes transmitting that the term was non-negotiable. "I do not want this to turn into some kind of personal vendetta."

Starsky shook his head. "We have no problem with back-up, Cap. We just want them back far enough and out of sight until we give the word. Finch thinks he has us backed into a corner, but he's new around here. He doesn't know what we're capable of. He made a mistake snatching Hutch's dad, and we intend to send a message loud and clear."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Hutch leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. He felt… drained. His shoulder was throbbing, the painkiller Starsky had forced on him before they headed to the airport was beginning to wear off, and a new pounding had taken up residence behind his eyes. He knew it was stress manifesting itself as a headache, but outside of a couple of aspirin there wasn't a lot he could do about it. He wasn't about to take another Percocet and risk not being alert when Finch called.

He knew Starsky was worried. It didn't take a genius to realize a two-day-old bullet wound wasn't exactly conducive to successful police work – especially when the case was fraught with such emotional ramifications. He sighed and raised his right arm to rub at his eyes. If only he could think straight. He knew he was running on pure adrenaline, and he knew it wasn't fair to Starsky to have to watch out for him as well as figure out how to get to Finch without getting his dad hurt, but he couldn't back down. Not now. Not while his father was still in danger. There was just too much at risk.

God, everything was so screwed up.

Whoever this Finch guy was, he'd made a tremendous tactical error when he'd snatched someone Hutch cared about.

And wasn't that the kicker?

Despite everything, Richard Hutchinson was still someone he cared about.

Despite all his claims to have finally had enough of the Hutchinson brand of accountability, he still loved his father. The man had made his disappointment clear, yet a small part of Hutch – one he'd managed to bury very, very deep inside – was still yearning for a tiny nod of approval from the man he'd tried, and failed, to please his entire life.

What the hell was wrong with him?

His mind drifted back to the fight in the apartment. He hadn't been asleep, more like drifting, comfortable and at rest, knowing they were safe for a while and allowing his aching body to relax just a bit in an attempt to recharge. He had heard a loud noise, raised voices, and it had taken his exhausted mind a few seconds to realize what was happening. By the time he'd kicked into gear, there was a man standing at the foot of the bed, holding a gun on him and he'd simply reacted. He'd launched himself off the mattress as the gun went off, knocking the stunned intruder backwards onto the floor. The man had recovered quickly, pressing his advantage once he'd realized Hutch was wounded, and flipped them, becoming the aggressor. Luckily, Starsky had chosen that moment to wade into the fray and the assailants had been forced to retreat, but not before Hutch had gotten a quick look at the man. He hadn't remembered in the adrenaline surge after the fight, but as he sat here on the couch with little to do besides wait and think, he realized he had gotten a brief glimpse of the man's face and that face was hovering in his memory like a ghost.

He'd seen him before, he was sure of it. He just couldn't figure out where.

Of course, they'd run across hundreds of hoods throughout the years, the faces all meshing together, one piece of shit crook looking just like another, but something about this guy stuck in Hutch's mind. A memory that was just on the fringe of his recall. It was more a feeling than an actual memory, and it elicited a response of pure fear from his gut. This Peele guy had somehow been involved in something that scared Hutch, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pinpoint where or when he'd seen the man before.

It was frustrating. And it was one more aggravation he didn't need at the moment.

He opened his eyes and checked the clock next to the phone. 4:10. The note Huggy had given him hadn't mentioned any specific time, nor had it mentioned any specific location for the call. Starsky had surmised that since they knew where Hutch lived, they knew his phone number also. Hutch had agreed. They doubted Finch would try to contact them at the station, and if they called The Pitts, Huggy would give them the number here. This was the most obvious place to wait.

He knew Starsky had dropped him off hoping he'd be able to get some rest, and he would've truly liked to give in to the call of exhaustion, but it wasn't going to happen. Too many thoughts were spinning around in his head and his chest ached with every movement. He just wished his partner would return with the suitcase so that they could get this show on the road.

If only the phone would ring.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

When Starsky left Dobey's office the first thing he noticed was Joan Meredith sitting at Hutch's desk, arms folded across her chest, watching him intently.

Shit.

He knew that look. It was one he'd received from countless women over the years.

Sighing, he rubbed a hand across his face and pulled out his own chair directly across from her and straddled it, leaning forward to meet her stare.

"Hey," he said softly, testing the waters.

He knew she was probably more than a little upset with him for ignoring her since the bust. He hadn't meant to blow her off, but with Hutch then Richard and now Finch, things had progressed pretty quickly and he hadn't had time to contact and update her on everything that was happening. He knew she was probably mad that he'd left her to take care of the paperwork on their case, but things had gotten out of control so fast he hadn't even had a moment to think about it.

Or her.

Maybe it was time to rethink the whole 'playing where you work' thing.

"Hey," she responded, her voice controlled and tight. This was not going to go well.

Starsky cleared his throat. "Has Dobey told you what's been going on?"

At the shake of her head, he silently cursed the captain and continued. "Ya see, Hutch –"

Meredith leaned forward and held up a hand. "I get it," she said sharply. "Your _real_ partner is back and that takes precedence." She huffed a laugh as she shuffled some of the papers on the desk and stuffed them into a file folder. "I should've seen it coming, though, I guess. You guys are all alike –"

Starsky stood and reached forward, grabbing her wrist, stopping her in mid sentence. "Look, I'm sorry you're upset. I never meant to make you feel like you weren't important. You are very important to me. And I have every intention of seeing this case – and whatever else I've started – through with you, I promise." He released her arm and stepped back from the desk. "It's just that right now, there's something I need to do. Someone's life is at stake and I can't take the time to lay it all out for you."

Meredith exhaled heavily and shook her head. "Of course it has something to do with Hutch. He's your priority."

Starsky sighed. Very few women had been able to understand or accept the connection between him and Hutch. He thought since Meredith was a cop, she'd be different. Maybe he'd thought wrong. "He's my partner. I'm not gonna apologize for that." He pushed the chair under the desk and turned. "If you want to talk, we can talk as soon as I get this situation taken care of." He turned back to her, his eyes filled with remorse. "If you don't… I guess…." He shrugged, his mouth set in a grim line. "It's your call, Detective."

Without another word, he hurried out of the squad room, leaving a stunned Meredith behind.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

By the time he returned to Venice Place, the sun was beginning to go down beyond the waters of the Pacific. Starsky stopped the Torino and hopped out, idly noting that it was going to be a spectacular sunset, before dismissing the view and pulling the gold suitcase from behind the driver's seat. They'd filled the suitcase with bags of baby powder, just in case they had to make a showing of the merchandise before Finch would deal, He knew it probably wouldn't fool the mobster close up, but hopefully it would give them just enough leeway to get Richard out of the line of fire.

And Hutch, too.

Starsky knew he wouldn't be able to talk his friend into sitting on the sidelines. Their plan called for one of them to make a show with the suitcase, demanding Richard be let go before they'd deal, while the other stayed close by, armed but out of sight, to control the situation. Despite Starsky's offer to be the one making contact, Hutch had insisted it be him. It was his father, and besides, the blond had reminded him, he was only working with one arm, so it would make more sense to have Starsky the one with the gun and in a position to save his ass if anything went wrong.

And so many things could go wrong.

They didn't expect Finch to just let Richard walk – but Hutch said he had a plan for that. He just wanted to make sure Starsky was able to keep whatever muscle Finch may bring with him from making a move until Richard was safe.

It wasn't much of a plan, but they'd always believed simple was the best way to go. And as soon as they got the call, they would be able to let Dobey in on where it was all going down. With police back-up just a radio call away, they were as prepared as they could possibly be.

He hurried up the stairs to Hutch's apartment, forcing himself to ignore the discussion he'd had with Meredith at the precinct and focusing on what they needed to do. He felt a tinge of regret at how he'd spoken to her back in the squad room, but he didn't have the time to explain everything to her and hoped she would give him that chance when it was all over. Meredith was an intoxicating, warm and fun woman, and he was truly interested in seeing where their relationship could lead, but there was no place in his life for jealousy. Hutch was family, and any woman Starsky considered as a potential relationship, would have to accept how much his partner meant to him if there was any kind of future. Meredith was a good cop, and he'd relish the chance to work with her again, but right now – and maybe more than was healthy – his priority was inside that upstairs apartment. Hutch was hanging on by a thread and he needed Starsky to keep it all together.

That's what partners were for.

Hutch was still on the couch, his head lying back against the top of the cushion, his eyes closed. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead and his cheeks were flushed, but he appeared to be asleep, prompting Starsky to catch the door before it could slam shut behind him.

He set the suitcase down next to the door and quietly crossed the room to the couch. The phone was on the coffee table directly in front of Hutch, the photos from the airport strewn across the cushions of the couch. Starsky lightly laid the back of a hand on his partner's cheek, frowning at the warmth he felt from the blond's skin.

"Can I stay home from school today, mom?" The bright blue eyes opened and gazed up at him as he leaned over the back of the couch.

"You're just trying to get out of that big math test," he responded with an affectionate grin. He moved his hand to Hutch's forehead. "You have a fever."

Hutch sighed and closed his eyes again. "Figured." He swallowed hard and raked his good hand across his face. "I took one of the antibiotics. I'll be Okay, Starsk."

Starsky didn't bother to ask if he took one of the pain pills, already knowing the answer. Hutch wouldn't chance taking anything that might interfere with his ability to think and act quickly – even if he probably did need it.

"Anything?" Starsky walked around the couch. He picked up and tossed the photos onto the table then took a seat on the sofa next to his partner.

Hutch shook his head without lifting it from the back of the couch. "No call, but I did figure out where I've seen Peele before."

Starsky closed his eyes and let his head fall to his chest, sorry his friend had made the connection.

"You knew?"

The dark head bobbed once in acknowledgement. "I guessed," he admitted. "But didn't know for sure if he was one of the ones…. Huggy recognized him as one of Forest's men when they busted in and took your dad."

Hutch was quiet for a while and Starsky finally looked up into his partner's angry eyes.

"And you didn't tell me because…?"

Starsky sat back wearily, letting his head fall back against the couch cushion mirroring his partner's position. "You had enough on your plate already. I didn't think you needed to know."

Hutch stared at him for a moment before lifting his head and responding in a controlled voice. "You didn't think I needed to know that my father was taken by a man who snatched me three years ago and helped to turn me into a junkie?"

Starsky raised his own head, fire shooting from his eyes at the words. "You were never a junkie," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You were kidnapped and tortured – yes they used heroin – but it wasn't your doin' and it wasn't your fault. You never asked for the stuff. It was no different than Bellamy shooting that poison into me!"

Hutch held up a hand at the old argument, his face contrite, trying to appease the sudden ire his comment had brought about in his partner. "Okay. You're right. I'm sorry."

Starsky accepted the apology and threw out one of his own. "Me, too. I shoulda told you when Huggy recognized him. I just…" He shrugged and gave his partner a sad grin.

"You just wanted to protect me." Hutch finished for him. He returned the grin. "And I appreciate it, buddy. But it may have helped me identify her sooner." He picked up the photo of the mystery woman and tossed it onto his partner's lap.

Starsky looked from the photo to his friend, brows raised in question.

"Jeannie."

Starsky stared at the photo, his mouth open in surprise. "You sure?"

Hutch nodded and slumped back against the cushion. He closed his eyes. "It's her."

Starsky looked from the photo to Hutch then back again, trying to distinguish anything familiar about the woman in the photo. He'd seen Jeannie Walton a few times when Hutch had been going but with her, but outside of the fact that the woman in the photo was tall and thin, Starsky couldn't see anything past the trench coat, hat and sunglasses that sparked any recognition.

Hutch snorted a laugh without bothering to open his eyes. "Trust me, partner, it's her. Once I took a really good look, I recognized the shape of her face, the line of her neck… things a man just doesn't forget about a woman he has feelings for, ya know?"

"Has?"

"Had." Hutch corrected. "It was a long time ago, Starsk. Another lifetime."

Starsky simply nodded and tossed the photo on the table with the others, trusting his partner's instinct. He sat back and shook his head. "What the hell would Jeannie be doing working with Finch? After everything you went through… after everything we did to get Forest and set her free?"

Hutch rolled his head and opened his eyes, giving his friend a look filled with sadness and regret. "Some people just don't know how to be free, I guess."

Starsky grunted a reply then turned to meet his partner's gaze. "You gonna be okay with this?"

Hutch shrugged, then winced at the movement of his wounded shoulder. He turned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Not really much of a choice," he stated matter-of-factly. "I'm okay, Starsk. I just wish –"

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. The detectives exchanged a look before Starsky reached forward and snagged the receiver, scooted over closer to Hutch and placed it between their ears.

"Yeah," Hutch said in a strong voice. "Hutchinson."

"_Hello, Detective. I'm happy to see you can follow directions. This may work out for everyone involved after all."_

"Where's my father, Finch?"

An amused chuckle filtered across the line. _"I was told you were good, Detective. Nice to see I wasn't led astray. Your father is fine – for the moment. His continued good health will depend on your cooperation."_

"I've got your suitcase. Where and when."

Another laugh made Starsky roll his eyes. _"Right to business, hmmm? Fine. I want you to bring my merchandise to the warehouse on Figueroa and Vine. Midnight tonight. Once I see my merchandise, I'll return your father to you and we can all go home happy. Deal?"_

"Fine. I'll be there."

"_Detective Hutchinson, come alone."_ Finch's voice took on a disturbing chill. _"I don't think you'll enjoy the reunion quite as much if I see any police presence."_

"Just make sure my father is unharmed," Hutch's voice dropped, matching the iciness of the mobsters. "If I see one bruise on him, Finch, there won't be a hole big enough or deep enough for you to hide in."

"_I believe we have an understanding, Detective. Midnight."_

The line clicked, signaling the end of the call. Starsky slowly replaced the handset, then sat back, shoulder to shoulder with Hutch. He lifted a hand and placed it on his partner's thigh, squeezing gently. "We'll get him back, partner," he promised again.

Hutch simply sighed, closed his eyes wearily and laid his head back against the cushion once more.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Finch hung up the phone and turned toward the two people seated in the high backed leather chairs against the far wall.

"Looks like your son wants you back after all, Dr. Hutchinson." The well-dressed mobster crossed the room to the small bar in the corner and poured himself a scotch. "Can I get you something?" he offered smugly.

"No," Richard replied, his voice clipped. "I want nothing from the likes of you."

Finch chuckled, replaced the top of the decanter and took a sip from the glass. "The likes of me, huh?" He smiled coldly as he stepped to the open chair facing Richard and made himself comfortable. "You think you're so much better, Doctor? You think your hero cop son is better?"

"Martin, please don't -" Jeannie's soft voice was cut off with a sharp look from the mobster. She dropped her head in submission, her shoulder length blonde hair hiding her face from view. With a satisfied grin, Finch returned his attention to Richard.

"Let me tell you a little story about your hero son, Richard. May I call you Richard?" He waited a moment, an arrogant smile on his face. When Richard did nothing but return his stare, Finch shrugged and continued. "Well, anyway, _Richard_, I used to work for a man named Ben Forest. He was a real son-of-a-bitch, but he had one weakness." Finch's eyes flickered toward Jeannie and she turned her face away. He smiled at her discomfort. "He liked to possess people. Own them. Break them down and use them for his own purposes. Beautiful women especially." He returned his gaze to Richard. "Unfortunately, one of his 'possessions' ran away and took up with a cop. I suppose she thought he could protect her. Her own personal 'white knight', you could say."

Richard glanced at the woman in the chair next to him, noting her distress at Finch's monologue.

"Mr. Forest couldn't find the girl – the cop had hidden her too well – so he had the bright idea to snatch the cop and beat the information out of him." He took a sip of his drink and his voice mellowing as if he was telling them a bedtime story. "Of course, he didn't bargain on the cop being quite so tough. He didn't crack no matter how much they beat him." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "If you ask me, he should've just written the dame off, you know? Sometimes these bimbos are more trouble than they're worth, right?" Laughing at his own joke, he leaned back and took another sip from the tumbler. "Now where was I? Oh, right. The 'White Knight'. Once Ben figured out he wasn't going to be able to beat the woman's location out of the cop, he resorted to… let's say… a more… inventive form of persuasion." Finch was grinning now, his eyes alive with mirth. "You, as a doctor, will be able to see the beauty of this. Forest decided to use heroin on this cop. String him out. Keep him flying so high he wouldn't even remember his own name."

Richard swallowed hard, grasping the connection Finch was trying to not-so-subtly make. "You're talking about Ken. He forced Ken to take heroin?"

Finch smiled and tipped the glass in Richard's direction. "Very good, Doctor. Mr. Forest was very creative when it came to getting what he wanted. And he wanted his possession back. So yes, your fine, upstanding hero son was hooked on heroin. Not willingly, I assure you, but the results were the same." He crossed his legs and took another sip of the scotch.

"But why?" Richard's voice was soft, not only disturbed about what this man said had been done to his son, but the fact that he'd not known anything about it. "Heroin isn't a truth serum. The drug wouldn't make him talk any more than beating him would have. What did Forest expect to gain?"

Finch laughed. "You're right, Doctor, the drug didn't make him talk. But, after a few days, the lack of it did."

Richard's eyes flashed over toward Jeannie who had not moved. She sat curled into a tight ball, her head turned away, her legs drawn up under her, shoulders slumped in defeat. Richard could tell by the way her slim torso moved that she was weeping, yet she didn't utter a sound.

"Once Forest stopped injecting the drug into Ms. Walton's White Knight, the withdrawal did what all the beatings in the world couldn't do. It broke him. He gave her up." He smiled cruelly, his gaze raking up and down Jeannie's distressed body. "He would've given anything for another fix." He sighed then, his eyes spiteful, his expression hard. "Unfortunately, Mr. Forest underestimated your son – a mistake I do not intend to make."

"What happened?" Richard turned back to Finch, his back straight, his voice demanding. "Ken is still alive," he pointed out. "Forest didn't kill him."

"He tried," Finch replied, his voice holding a touch of respect. "But Detective Hutchinson proved a worthy opponent. He managed to escape. The word was his partner found him, cleaned him up, and they managed to take down Ben Forest and put him in prison."

Richard quietly thanked David Starsky and let himself return Finch's cold grin. "Forest got what he deserved."

Finch nodded in agreement. "He was stupid, and yes, his obsession was his downfall. His arrogance made him believe one stupid cop wouldn't be a threat. I, on the other hand, am much more careful." He rose and placed the now empty glass on the bar top and strode to the door. "I will be ready for your son, Dr. Hutchinson. I can assure you of that."

As soon as he was gone, the click of the lock echoing in the spacious office, Richard turned to Jeannie and regarded her silently. Her quiet sniffles were the only sound in the room as she tried to regain control of herself. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she rasied her head, brushing the blonde hair from her face, but didn't uncoil from her protective cocoon.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, the tears leaving tracks in the makeup on her cheeks. "I don't know what else to say."

"Is what he said true?" Richard asked slowly. "Did they really do that to my son?"

Jeannie nodded, her eyes filling with tears again. She lowered her head, hiding behind the curtain of hair again. "I never meant for any of it to happen. I just wanted to feel safe. And Hutch, he made me feel safe, like I was just a normal person. He was the first man in my life who cared about me without wanting something in return."

Richard nodded, treading carefully with the obviously upset young woman. "When did this happen?"

Jeannie took a deep breath before replying, pushing her hair behind her ear. "It was three, almost four years ago. I haven't seen Hutch since."

"You didn't stay together? Even after all that?"

Her face scrunched up as the tears began to fall again. "I couldn't stay. Not after what they did to him because of me. I couldn't understand how he could ever forgive me for what I was."

"Did he ask you to leave?"

Jeannie shook her head, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "No. He told me he'd be back for me as soon as they booked Forest. But I couldn't… I couldn't stand to see what they'd done to him. He looked so… broken. He was the strongest man I've ever known, and they hurt him so badly because of me." She took another deep breath and turned fully in the chair, facing Richard. "I know I was a coward. I ran away from him, just like I've run from everything good in my life. And look what it's gotten me. I was wrong. If I'd have stayed…" She covered her face with her hand, tears leaking from the corners of her tightly closed eyes.

Richard reached across the space between them and laid a hand on her knee. "You loved him."

Jeannie nodded, her watery eyes opening to gaze at him earnestly. "I never stopped."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Starsky ran a hand down his face and leaned back in the kitchen chair. He was at Hutch's table, a plate with the remains of a pastrami and cheese sandwich pushed aside, his hand loosely gripping a bottle of semi-cold root beer. He took another drink from the soda he knew Hutch kept in the refrigerator just for him and let his eyes settle on the quiet figure curled on the couch.

It hadn't taken much convincing to get the wounded man to lie down for a while, knowing there was little they could do until their rendezvous with Finch. Starsky had even persuaded the blond to down one of the pain pills, hoping it would give him enough relief to get some much needed sleep. Trusting that his partner would wake him up in plenty of time for the meet, Hutch had reluctantly agreed and as the shadows crept across the room, had fallen into a healing sleep.

They had called in and informed Dobey where the exchange was to take place. The captain had promised to have at least three black and white units on hand as back-up, well hidden and out of range of the warehouse. Starsky would carry a two-way radio to keep them apprised of the situation and let them know when to move in. They were taking a chance, having marked units in the vicinity, but it was something they both felt comfortable with as long as they stayed out of sight and let the two detectives run the show.

As he drained the bottle, Starsky considered how ready his partner was for the confrontation that lay ahead. If Finch knew about what had happened with Forest – and it was almost certain he did – he could make things very awkward for Hutch, not only because his father was involved but because the ordeal was something Hutch had never quite gotten over.

The full details of what had gone down had never been made public. Dobey had let IA in on the particulars, but nobody outside of the captain and himself within the department had ever known the whole story of how far gone Hutch had been when he was found. The reports noted that Hutch had been dosed, but not to what extent. Bernie, the patrolman who had been with Hutch in that dirty alley when Starsky had arrived, had filed his report, but agreed to not mention the extensive needle marks they'd both seen on Hutch's arm. Once Dobey had explained that those tracks had been a result of kidnapping and torture, Bernie had had no problem leaving out a few details from his account. Starsky had been forever grateful to the man, and to this day, was willing to lend a hand whenever the patrolman needed extra help with one of his charity functions.

Reliving that nightmare was the last thing Hutch needed right now. He was already weak and in pain from the gunshot wound to his upper chest, and Dobey was right, he should probably still be in the hospital recuperating, not fronting a hostage exchange with a known mobster. And the emotional baggage that was hanging over the father/son reunion was enough to floor a weaker man, not to mention having to deal with the possible involvement of a woman he once had feelings for… maybe even loved. But, this was the hand they were dealt, and Starsky knew Hutch would do whatever was needed to make it work out to their advantage. He had no doubt about his friend's dedication, he just wished he could take some of the burden of guilt from the blond's broad shoulders and give him a little room to breathe.

As the darkness deepened inside the apartment, Starsky tried to relax a bit, letting his mind drift to the situation currently going on between Hutch and his father. He'd never been able to understand how Hutch's family could so easily dismiss him. He'd known for a long time that Hutch hadn't had the idyllic childhood most people believed he'd had. Even when they'd first met at the academy, most of the other cadets had been quick to believe that the tall blond from the well-to-do midwestern family was standoffish and aloof, purposely keeping himself distant from the other cadets because of an air of lofty superiority.

But Starsky had seen something else – fear. It wasn't that Cadet Hutchinson thought he was better than everyone else, it was that he believed he didn't quite fit in, that he had to prove that he belonged. Starsky had been able to relate to that. A street-tough, Brooklyn-born Jewish kid, displaced to sunny California, he'd first been a bit jealous that Hutch's blond hair and beach boy good looks helped him fit in to the southern California crowd so seamlessly. But he'd quickly discovered that Hutch didn't really fit in any better than he did. He'd decided to take a chance on the reserved midwesterner and a fast friendship had formed. Even when they'd palled around with John Colby, it had still been the two of them that had stuck together. And it had turned out to be the best decision he'd ever made.

Hutch didn't talk about his family much back then, only admitting – when pushed after a few too many beers – that his chosen profession hadn't been met with approval from his parents. They'd had loftier goals in mind for their only son, and escaping those preset plans had been why Hutch had made his escape as far away from Minnesota as he could. Starsky had always been grateful for that. Despite the rough times and the fights they'd had over the years, he'd never doubted Hutch's love or loyalty; qualities Starsky held in high regard… qualities Hutch obviously hadn't learned from his own family.

Maybe what had happened would turn out for the best. Not that Starsky wished for Richard's life to be in danger, but maybe it would give the man a new perspective on who and what his son truly was. Maybe, he could learn to understand that someone had to stand up for those who couldn't protect themselves and that his son was one of the best. Starsky knew in his heart that Hutch wanted to have a relationship with his father – would give anything to find a common ground, something to build on. Starsky would never have the chance to have that with his own dad, and he couldn't understand how any wall could be so insurmountable that it couldn't be climbed.

Or completely obliterated.

But, as Hutch had once pointed out – again, after several too many beers – there was a distinct difference between them. Starsky had had a 'Dad' who'd helped him be a kid, even if it was for only a short amount of time. Hutch had had a 'Father'. At first Starsky hadn't understood the difference, but the more he got to know Hutch and the more he learned about the pressures and expectations of his friend's formative years, the clearer the distinction became.

Starsky sighed and checked his watch. 10:50. Time to wake Hutch and get themselves prepared for the meet with Finch. He glanced at the sleeping man again. He looked so peaceful, so relaxed. Starsky wished he could just let his partner sleep, go out himself and bring Richard back so that they could have a chance to repair what was broken between them. But he knew that the success of their plan relied on them both doing what they did best.

He hoped it was enough.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Starsky melted into the shadows of the warehouse, his eyes scanning the parking lot of the large building. It was almost midnight, and he'd silently made his way to the area on foot after Hutch had let him out of the car a few blocks back. The night was calm, the moon hanging high, flooding the narrow lot with silvery light. The lone streetlight at the far end of the lot was out, leaving the moon the only illumination.

His eyes settled on his partner as he leaned against his battered LTD. Hutch had insisted on removing the sling, but still held his left arm stiffly. The gold suitcase was resting on the hood of the car, the low light glinting off the handcuffs securing the suitcase to Hutch's left wrist. It had been difficult for Hutch to lift the case, filled as it was with the fake drugs, with his wounded arm, but he'd insisted he'd need his right arm free in case anything went wrong. It wasn't that he didn't trust Starsky to keep things under control, he just didn't want to have both arms out of commission in case things went south. He promised to leave the case on the car if he could so as not to do too much damage to the still painful wound. Starsky hadn't been thrilled about his partner's idea, but conceded that it was a fair compromise and had jokingly cautioned the blond not to do any heavy lifting if he could possibly help it.

Now, as they settled in to wait, Starsky was able to take a good look at his friend.

Hutch was tense – and understandably so. He looked a little better after his short rest back at the apartment and he was no longer flushed, making Starsky assume the antibiotics were doing their job. But he was obviously hurting and, Starsky noted with a pang of anxiety, scared.

Of course, it was only normal to be a little anxious in their line of work – anyone who wasn't scared when dealing with the kind of scum they dealt with was either crazy or dead. Hutch was breathing a bit heavy, but that could be blamed on his current physical condition and Starsky wanted to believe his partner had everything under control. Of course, his friend had never been under this much strain before, and Starsky could only hope that Hutch could control his fear for his father long enough to stick to the plan and not take any unnecessary risks. Starsky had no problem trusting Hutch to protect Richard – it was Hutch's own wellbeing Starsky was worried about. Despite promises to be careful, Starsky knew his partner would do whatever it took to keep his father safe. He could only back his partner's play and cover them both like he knew Hutch expected him to. They had never let each other down when the going got tough, and with all that was at stake, Starsky had no desire to start now.

The sound of a car pulling into the far side of the building caught his attention and he turned to see a dark sedan pulling into the lot. The lights from the car flooded the area, the beams illuminating Hutch as he waited by the LTD. The car came to a stop and the lights were extinguished, leaving the scene bathed in moonlight once again.

Starsky raised the radio to his face and pushed the button. "The curtain is going up," he said quietly. He placed the radio on a nearby crate and lifted his Baretta, aiming it at the passenger door of the sedan as it opened.

shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Hutch raised a hand and shielded his eyes as the beams from the car momentarily blinded him. As the car pulled to a stop, he heard the engine die and then the bright lights disappeared, leaving him blinking away the red and green after image from his eyes. He squinted through the sudden darkness as a man he recognized as Peele stepped out of the passenger side of the car, smiling in Hutch's direction before moving back and opening the rear door of the sedan. A man of about 50, with dark hair and an expensive suit, got out and moved to the front of the car, stepping carefully around the broken concrete of the parking lot.

"Detective Hutchinson, I presume," Finch called his greeting across the short distance. The car had pulled to a stop about fifteen yards from the front bumper of the LTD, so the man's voice was easily heard without the need to shout. Finch made a show of looking around the deserted lot, peering into the darkened recesses of the abandoned warehouse. "I assume your partner, Detective Starsky, is around somewhere?"

"He's close," Hutch admitted. He knew Starsky was just inside the warehouse to his left, hidden in the shadows, but with a clear line of sight to both him and Finch. "Where's my father?"

"I told you to come alone, Detective."

"I'm not stupid. You give me my father, you won't have any problem with Starsky," he lied convincingly. Years of undercover work had made them both consummate actors.

Finch pursed his lips, contemplating the detective's words for a moment. He looked behind him to the car and uttered a few words Hutch couldn't quite hear before turning back to the detective. Hutch's eyes were drawn to the driver's side door as it opened and a very large man wearing a short-sleeved polo shirt and slacks stepped out. Even in the dim moonlight, Hutch could see the bulging muscles under the shirt.

Finch motioned behind him and Peele once again opened the rear passenger side door. He pulled a gun and pointed it inside the car. Hutch held his breath as Richard stepped out, his hands bound in front of him with what looked like duct tape. He stumbled once as Peele pushed him, forcing him to the front of the car to stand alongside Finch.

"There, Detective," Finch waved an arm toward Richard. "Just as I promised. Not a mark on him."

Hutch sighed in relief as his eyes roamed over his father in the scant light. "You okay?"

Richard nodded, his breath coming in quick bursts. "I'm fine, Kenneth." His voice was shaking but strong.

"See? Now, where is my merchandise?"

Hutch tilted his head toward the suitcase. "Right here." With his right hand, he flipped the latches on the suitcase and opened it, shifting it slightly on the car hood to display the rows of carefully placed white bags. After a few moments he slammed the lid down, secured the latches and moved his left hand, shaking the set of handcuffs that connected the handle of the suitcase to his wrist.

Finch laughed. "Very clever. Now unlock the handcuffs and bring me the suitcase."

Hutch dug into his pocket and held up the small key. He shook his head. "My father first."

Finch sighed dramatically. "My patience is wearing thin, Detective." He motioned toward Peele who approached, his gun leveled at Richard's head. "I'm not the kind of man who enjoys playing games."

Hutch smiled coldly. "Neither am I." He tossed the key to the ground about three feet in front of him. "Let my father go. He picks up the key, unlocks the cuffs. I'll set the case on the ground, get into my car and leave. Nobody gets hurt."

Finch chuckled and dropped his head, shaking it slowly. "I don't think you understand the game here, Detective Hutchinson. I can have Mr. Peele pull the trigger with one word."

"It'll be the last one you ever utter," Hutch said coldly. "My partner will put a slug in your head. Trust me, he's a good shot. And it won't get your drugs back – but then you won't really care will you? You'll be dead."

He held his breath, waiting for Finch to make a move. He knew they were walking a fine line, baiting the man who held his father's life in his hands, but they were banking on Finch's greed to trump his ego. They were also hoping his desire to keep his business intact would keep him from taking the chance on a possible murder charge. Of course, he doubted Finch would be happy about the kidnapping and extortion charges they planned to throw at him either, but they could explain all that after they got Richard out of the line of fire and Finch and his goons in custody.

Finch stood, regarding the detective for a few moments before emitting a low, rumbling laugh. "I must say, Hutchinson, you are better than I expected."

"Glad I could make your day."

"It's no wonder you managed to beat Ben Forest."

At the mention of Forest's name, Hutch's breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard. "That was a long time ago." He forced himself to respond, cringing at the slight tremble the name brought to his voice.

"Maybe not so long as you'd like, huh?" Finch taunted.

"Are we gonna do business or what, Finch?"

Finch took a deep breath and nodded. "Very well." He motioned for Richard to move forward. "Please, Doctor. Do as your son has requested." He raised his voice to address Hutch again. "But Mr. Peele will accompany him to protect my interests."

As Richard was pushed forward, Peele's gun pressed into his back, Hutch was peripherally aware of the driver moving, opening the back door and reaching into the back seat. As Richard moved closer, the detective could see another, smaller figure emerge from the car, the shoulder length blond hair glowing in the moonlight.

He felt his breath rush out of his lungs as the behemoth forced her to the front of the car, holding her arm cruelly behind her.

Jeannie.

Hutch squeezed his eyes closed as a dull pain wrapped around his chest.

"Damn."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

"Damn,"

Starsky muttered the expletive as he recognized the woman Finch's hired muscle had pulled out of the back seat of the car and dragged to the front of the sedan. Her hair was shorter and she was impossibly thinner, but he knew without a doubt it was Jeannie Walton.

That was a wrinkle they hadn't figure on.

A quick look at Hutch told him his partner had recognized her, too. Starsky swore as his Hutch's eyes squeezed tightly for a moment, knowing that their plan had just gotten much more complicated.

Trusting that Hutch could handle Peele, Starsky set his sights on the man holding Jeannie and waited for his partner's signal.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

"That's far enough," Hutch said coldly.

Richard and Peele were only a few feet from where the small handcuff key lay on the ground, the glint of reflected moonlight on the metal the only thing distinguishing it from the gray concrete surrounding it.

Peele pulled them to a stop, titling his head to leer up at the detective from his protective stance behind Richard.

"It's been a while, cop. You look a lot better than the last time we met."

Hutch swallowed hard, the voice of the man who'd beaten him all those years ago sending a chill up his spine. "Wish I could say the same."

Peele laughed, an empty, bitter sound. "I was just doing my job, Hutchinson. You know how it is." His lips thinned and one hand came up to rub at his crooked nose. "I didn't appreciate the kick to the face. I owe you for that."

Hutch didn't bother to respond. He shifted his gaze to Richard, who was looking back, his eyes wide, his body stiff with fear.

"It's okay, Dad," he soothed. "We've got this. I just need you to bend all the way down and pick up the key. We'll handle the rest." He raised his brows, hoping his father was intuitive enough to understand what he was telling him to do, but he had no idea if the message was getting through. Funny, he thought, how he and Starsky could know exactly what the other was thinking without words even when they weren't in the others line of sight, and yet here he was, standing only a few yards from his own father, and he had no idea how he would respond.

He could tell Richard was shaking, his eyes wide, his breaths coming in short rasps. But the doctor nodded, a stilting, unsteady movement and Hutch gave him a small smile of encouragement. He pointed to the key and as Richard stooped to retrieve the it, Hutch tightened his hold on the handle of the suitcase, and swung it with all the strength he could muster right into the side of Peele's head. The man dropped like a stone.

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

As soon as Starsky saw Richard lean down, he knew his partner was going to act. He gripped the radio, pressed the button and shouted, "Now! Now! Move in!"

Dropping the radio, he moved out into the lot, his weapon trained on the man holding Jeannie. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hutch swing the suitcase, and was ready, braced as Finch's hired goon reacted and brought his weapon up, aimed toward the three men across the lot.

"Freeze! Police!" he called, watching as the man shifted his aim toward Starsky. "Jeannie! Down!" The woman dropped immediately at the sound of his voice, disappearing out of sight behind the car. Starsky pulled the trigger, two loud bangs echoing against the brick wall of the warehouse. The large man jerked as the slugs from the automatic hit him high in the chest, his face taking on an expression of shock as the gun fell from suddenly lax fingers. As he toppled to the ground, Starsky turned his attention to Finch, who was reaching into his jacket.

"I said freeze, Finch!"

The sounds of tires screeching into the lot filled the air as the back-up units arrived, their lights painting the shadows in sporadic red and blue flashes. Starsky advanced on Finch, pulling his hand from his jacket and tossing the small snub-nosed revolver from the hidden holster onto the ground. Roughly, he shoved the well-dressed mobster against the hood of the car, using his foot to spread the man's legs before stepping back and letting one of the uniformed officers take custody.

"Read him his rights," Starsky ordered harshly. "Make sure this one is by the book."

"Yes sir," the officer responded, pulling Finch's hands behind him and fitting the handcuffs snugly around his wrists.

"My lawyers will eat you for breakfast!" Finch screamed.

"Yeah, yeah." Starsky dismissed the mobster, ignoring his shouted threats and rounded the car to where Jeannie stood, her arms wrapped around her slim torso. He holstered his gun and placed a hand on her arm.

"You okay?" He ducked his head to get a look at her tear-stained face.

She sniffled and nodded, giving him a tremulous smile. "Yeah. Thank you."

He smiled and gave her a curt nod. Jeannie's attention moved to focus behind him and he sighed, reading the look in her eyes. He doubted Hutch was in any condition to face both Jeannie and his father at the same time.

"Not now," Starsky said softly. "Just give him some time."

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "It never seems to be the right time, huh?"

He shook his head sadly.

"Tell him…." She stopped and took a deep breath, her eyes dropping to the ground before one again meeting Starsky's. "Tell him I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

Motioning to another uniformed officer, Starsky instructed him to take care of her, then made his way across the short distance to where another officer was placing handcuffs on an unmoving Peele. Starsky couldn't find it in himself to wonder how bad the guy was hurt. Hutch had hit him squarely with the suitcase and Starsky knew from experience the kind of power his friend could expend when he wanted to.

He stepped around the prone man and made his way to his partner. Hutch was sitting on the concrete, his back up against the wheel of the LTD. Richard was crouched in front of him, his hands busy working at the lock of the handcuffs still securing the gold suitcase to Hutch's left wrist.

Starsky squatted down on the blond's other side, giving him a crooked grin and disapproving shake of the head.

"I thought I told you no heavy lifting, partner?"

Hutch looked from under heavy lashes, returning the grin. "Seemed like a good idea at the time." He turned his head, his eyes searching the crowd of officers. "Jeannie?"

Starsky placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "She's Okay. They took her back to Metro." He didn't elaborate, knowing there would be plenty of time for Hutch to speak with her if he decided to. Whether charges would be filed against Jeannie for being a part of everything or not was up to the D.A. But if she was willing to testify this time, things might go easier on her.

Starsky huffed a laugh and turned his attention to Richard who had finally succeeded in unlocking the cuffs from his son's arm. "You okay, Doc?"

Richard blew out a long breath, puffing out his cheeks in the process then nodded. "That was… something I never want to experience ever again." He looked from Starsky to Hutch then back again. "Please tell me this wasn't a typical day for you two."

Hutch opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it and simply pulled his wounded arm to his chest and leaned his head back, letting his partner take the lead.

Starsky snorted a laugh through his nose. "Nah," he replied. "Hutch hardly ever knocks someone out with a suitcase filled with baby powder."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Richard and Starsky had ganged up on him and insisted Hutch get his bullet wound checked out at the hospital before heading to Metro to fill out the arrest reports. The pull from the suitcase as he swung it had torn a few of the sutures and he'd agreed to having the wound treated more for the chance to get it numbed for a while than to appease his partner or his father. Of course, he wasn't about to tell either of them that little nugget of truth. He'd let them have their apparent victory believing they'd be much easier to live with if they thought they'd won this round. It also gave him an excuse to have his father checked out and was relieved to find that outside of a few scrapes and bruises from the initial abduction at The Pitts, Richard hadn't been harmed.

When they arrived at Metro, Richard was whisked away by Captain Dobey to give his statement and Starsky and Hutch folded into their chairs in exhaustion.

"How you doing?" Starsky eyed his partner over the piles of unfinished reports on their shared desk. He knew the doctors at the hospital had given Hutch the okay to leave, but he still didn't like the paleness of his partner's face.

"I'll live," Hutch sighed. He slumped in his chair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. The hospital had given him another sling to hold his arm immobile and between having it strapped down and the local they'd given him when they'd re-sutured it, he was actually feeling very little pain. "Is it just me, Starsk, or has this been a damn long week?"

Starsky snorted a laugh and leaned forward on the desktop. "It ain't just you, partner. I think I'm gonna sleep for 24 hours straight." He yawned for emphasis before slouching down and crossing his arms atop his chest. "So… "

Hutch raised his head. "So?"

"Now that everyone is okay and the bad guys are in a cell, what are you planning on doing about your dad?"

Hutch rubbed a hand across his face and leaned forward, his elbow on the desk, his face buried in his hand. "I don't know, Starsk. I mean it was one thing when he was in trouble, but now… I'm not sure there's anything left to save."

Starsky shook his head, his eyes narrowed. "Uh uh. I saw you when he was in danger, Hutch. You were scared. You can't fake that kind of fear."

"Yeah, I was afraid for him, but… I don't know, Starsk. There's just too much water under the bridge, ya know?"

"You owe it to yourself to try. He's your dad, Hutch."

"No, he's my father. You had a dad. There's a difference."

Starsky nodded, not wanting to reopen that discussion. "Okay. I'll give you that. But your father is right here. And he's finally had to meet you on your terms. He finally got to see just who you really are. You gonna throw that away?"

Hutch sighed, using his hand to rub at the crease between his eyes. "I… I don't know if I can do this, Starsk." His voice was low and Starsky could hear the uncertainty underneath the exhaustion. "I've spent so much of my life hating him."

He knew what it took for Hutch to openly admit that. He'd spent far too long pretending that not having his family behind him didn't matter, that he was perfectly fine on his own, that not having that kind of support wasn't important to him. But Starsky wasn't fooled. He knew Hutch depended on him for that kind of foundation – and he gladly gave everything he could – they both did. But Hutch had spent his life trying to find a way to gain his father's respect. He wasn't going to let his partner blow the one chance he had of making that a reality.

"I know," he said softly. "But I know you, partner. While a part of you was hating him, a little part that you managed to bury very, very deep kept loving him."

Hutch was quiet for a while, his eyes down, focused internally. When he finally spoke, it was merely a whisper. "Maybe. I just… I don't know where to go from here."

"How about you take him out for breakfast?"

Hutch's eyes shifted so that he was looking up at his partner, a hopeful expression on his weary face. "Breakfast, huh? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"And what if it all blows up in my face and I still end up hating him?"

Starsky shrugged, a confident smile lifting both sides of his mouth. "Then at least you'll know you tried. He's right here, Hutch. In our world this time. For the first time, he's seen what we do, how we live, how we cope. You gonna be able to live with yourself if you don't at least try?"

Hutch stared at him for a long moment before his eyes softened, and he returned his partner's smile. "When did you get so smart?"

Starsky's face lit up. "I've always been smart, Partner. I just hide it so I don't intimidate you." He laughed at his partner's eye roll and pushed himself up from the desk. Turning toward the half filled coffee pot behind him, Starsky picked up a cup and poured some of the dark liquid. He moved back to the desk as he took a tentative sip. "S'not too bad. You want some –"

And suddenly realized he was talking to air. Hutch was no longer sitting in the chair across their shared desk and Starsky's eyes were drawn to the swinging doors of the squad room his partner had just passed through. He took another sip as he watched through the large window situated on the front wall as Hutch slowly approached the two women in the dimly lit corridor. He sighed and placed the half-filled cup on the desk, and sat down to organize some of the files littering the surface. "No, I guess you don't."

Shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Hutch stepped through the swinging doors of the squad room, his eyes on Jeannie Walton as she was being led to one of the interview rooms down the hallway. The woman stopped, her eyes softening at the sight of the tall detective, a tremulous smile on her face.

"Hi, Hutch." Her voice was hushed, almost a whisper.

He nodded once and addressed the female officer escorting her without taking his eyes from his former lover's. "Can we have a minute, Sally?"

The officer looked from her prisoner to the detective, noting the spark of connection and nodded quietly, then slipped down the hallway to the water cooler to give them some semblance of privacy.

"Hi, Jeannie," Hutch finally responded. He lifted a hand toward her shoulder length blonde hair, gently ruffling the ends. "You cut your hair." He smiled as she tilted her head slightly toward his hand. "Looks good."

Jeannie returned his smile. "I've missed you."

Hutch dropped his hand and swallowed hard, his head and his heart vying for control. "I…" He shook his head, not able to return the sentiment. "Are you okay?"

Jeannie nodded, her smile fading, her eyes rimmed with tears. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She laughed self-consciously, shrugging her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around herself. "For… everything. For what Finch did, what happened to your father, for leaving before…" She dropped her eyes, not able to meet his gaze.

"It's done," Hutch said, a shade of sadness coloring the words. "We can't change the past."

"I know," Jeannie nodded. She raised a hand to brush a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry… I was scared. When I left I didn't know what to do. Forest was gone, you… I couldn't face what he'd done to you. I ran. Right back into the life I'd been tying to escape from to begin with." She laughed again and Hutch could hear the self-loathing in her voice. "Stupid, huh?"

Hutch lightly touched her cheek, his finger stroking the fine plane of her jaw. "You were scared. Scared people do stupid things."

She smiled at the absolution and raised her eyes to meet his. "For a while I convinced myself you'd come after me. I waited."

"I told you I wouldn't."

"I know."

He dropped his hand at the sound of clicking footsteps behind him.

"I'm sorry, Detective," Officer Sally Madison interrupted. "But they're waiting to take her statement."

Hutch nodded, stepping back as Officer Madison took hold of Jeannie's arm and steered her past him toward the interview room.

"Hutch?"

He turned his head at the sound of Jeannie's voice, looking over his shoulder at the face of the woman he once loved. "Yeah?"

"I'll always regret it," she said quietly, though her voice seemed loud in the empty hallway. "Leaving you. Remember that?"

He returned her poignant smile. "I will."

As the two women disappeared down the corridor, Hutch felt his exhaustion press upon him like a physical weight. He slowly shuffled to the long bench on the far side of the hallway and dropped down, leaning his head against the wall. He closed his eyes wearily and sighed.

"She's a beautiful girl."

Hutch jumped at the familiar voice, opening his eyes to see his father standing before him. He hadn't even heard him approach.

Hutch cleared his throat and sat forward on the bench, leaning his good elbow on his thigh. "Yeah, she always was." He craned his neck to look down the hallway, noting the door to Dobey's office standing open. "You done already?"

Richard shook his head. "Not quite yet. The Captain decided we should take a break. Said something about coffee and donuts."

Hutch let himself grin at the Captain's predictable behavior.

"I can see why you'd want to save her." Richard added tentatively.

"Some people don't want to be saved." Hutch shook his head slowly as the truth in his statement sank in.

Richard settled onto the bench and Hutch could feel his father's eyes on him.

"But you still try."

The detective sighed wearily and rubbed his hand across his brow. "It's my job."

"Is that what this was tonight? You just doing your job?"

Hutch looked up sharply, not understanding what his father was asking. "Dad, I'm too tired to play games."

Richard twisted in his seat nervously and looked momentarily down at his hands before shifting his attention to the wall across from the bench. "I… I couldn't see it before. But what you do – protecting people, saving them – it's who you are."

Hutch snorted a laugh. "For all the good it seems to do sometimes."

"Seems to me it does a lot of good." Richard turned his gaze back to his son. "Don't get me wrong, Ken. I would give anything to see you follow in my footsteps, become a doctor, help people the way I do instead of putting yourself in danger, getting shot, or… injected with drugs."

Hutch froze, closing his eyes and hanging his head, the thought of his father knowing what Forest had done to him making his breath catch in his throat. "So they told you."

Richard nodded, even though his son couldn't see the gesture. "Yes. They told me. Finch seemed to relish being able to tell me the story of how that man tortured you. Of how they went to such extremes to make you tell them where Ms. Walton was hiding."

"And I did." Hutch whispered, his voice carrying the despair he hadn't been able to dispel all these years. "I told them where she was."

Richard reached out tentatively, placing a hand on his son's bowed back. "Yes, but you can't carry that around with you forever. You weren't in command of your senses. I'm a doctor. I know the effects heroin can have on a person's mind."

Hutch snorted a laugh. "Now you sound like Starsky."

"He seems like a very intelligent young man," Richard responded with a chuckle, then sobered, leaning forward to match Hutch's pose. "Ken, I never understood why you do what you do – to be honest maybe I didn't want to. I think I was convinced you chose to leave school and become a police officer simply to spite me. I never once considered that you were doing it because it was what you were meant to do."

Hutch turned his head and caught his father's eyes. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm willing to consider that perhaps I was… wrong." Richard cleared his throat as if the admission had been painful. "And I'm saying thank you. Despite everything, you and David both risked your lives to save mine. How many fathers can truly say they know their sons would risk everything to protect them?" He grinned at the stunned look on Hutch's face, then stood and offered his hand. "So, thank you, Ken… or should I call you Hutch?"

The detective couldn't stop the startled laugh that escaped him, but took the proffered hand in his own. "Uh, you should probably stick to Ken."

"Agreed."

A sound from down the hall made both men look, and Hutch nodded to Dobey who was standing outside his office door. The look on the large man's face indicated they were ready to return to business.

Hutch looked up at his father, his eyes searching for something on the familiar face. "So what now?"

Richard shuffled his feet, a gesture that looked unsuited to the normally composed man. "I believe we're almost done. Once we wrap up my statement, your captain said I'm free to return to my hotel and the conference."

"Back to the grind, huh?" Hutch couldn't keep the tinge of disappointment out of his voice. He released his father's hand and lowered his head, his eyes focused on the scuffed linoleum at his feet.

"Something like that." Richard took a step to the side, scrutinizing his son's posture. "You look beat, son. Why don't you go home and get some rest. Captain Dobey said he could have an officer transport me to the hotel when we finish."

Hutch just nodded, his eyes still on the floor.

After a few moments, Richard's shoulders slumped and he turned to begin the long walk back down the hallway.

"Hey Dad?"

At the sound of his son's voice, Richard stopped, his face guarded, his eyes wide.

Hutch smiled and pushed himself from the bench, approaching the older man with a nervous smile. "You hungry?"

shshshshshshshshshshshshshshshshsh

Twenty-four hours later Starsky and Hutch were rested and back in Captain Dobey's office to wrap up the case against Finch and his men. After going over all the statements and the evidence the investigating officers had come across once they'd gotten warrants for Finch's office and other warehouses, Dobey updated them on how the D.A. wanted to proceed , letting them know they were expected in the D.A.'s office later that afternoon. The Bay City Police Department was coordinating with the airline and federal authorities as well as the local police back in Minnesota where the flight had originated to uncover Finch's pipeline. It was a far-reaching investigation that would take a lot of time and manpower and, although they wouldn't be directly involved in the actual investigation, the Feds promised to keep them in the loop and apprise them of any additional indictments they would be handing down against Finch and his organization.

As they were wrapping things up, Joan Meredith knocked on the door and handed Dobey her final report on the theft ring case. Since Starsky was already there, and since they'd never had the time to put that case to bed, they went over the particulars. When Starsky stood to escort his temporary partner to the door, both Dobey and Hutch had enjoyed ribbing their friend about how the two detectives had said their goodbyes.

An hour later, they were out of the station and heading to the police garage in back where Starsky had parked the Torino earlier.

"So," Hutch said as he stepped around the back of the car and came to a stop by the passenger side door. "You and Detective Meredith, huh?"

Starsky shrugged and met his partner's eyes across the top of the car. "I don't know. She's certainly someone I'd like to get to know better. And she definitely smells better than you."

Hutch chuckled. "Should I be putting in a requisition for a new partner, Partner?"

Starsky made a show of pondering the question before he shook his head. "Nah, I finally got you housebroken. Don't think I have the energy to train a new one." He grinned and bobbed his eyebrows a few times. "Besides, I can think of a whole lot of things I'd rather do with Meredith than chase bad guys."

"I'll bet," Hutch laughed.

"What about you?"

"Me?" Hutch placed his good hand on his chest in mock innocence. "I hardly know the woman. Of course, if she's interested in a step up in class, I would gladly accommodate."

Starsky frowned at him. "A step up my ass," he quipped. "I was talking about Jeannie. You plan on seeing her?"

Hutch's smile faded and he dropped his gaze. Slowly, he shook his head. "No. I don't think so. That was over a long time ago. We both made our choices back then." He shrugged and raised his eyes to meet his partner's. "Sometimes things are better left alone."

Starsky nodded knowingly. "So, you want a lift home?" He opened the driver's side door but didn't get in, still looking across the top of the car at Hutch.

Hutch's eyes lost their focus for a moment as he considered the offer. After a beat, he took a deep breath and shook his head. "Think you can drop me off at the Airport Hilton? I think I'll see if my dad's available for lunch."

"What do you think I am, a taxi service?" Starsky put up a token protest as Hutch grinned and disappeared into the passenger seat of the car. He turned to join him, a satisfied smile playing on his face.

"That's my boy," he whispered. He dropped behind the wheel and turned the key, letting the roar of the Torino's engine fill the garage.

**The End**

_**Hope you enjoyed this trip back to Bay City. I know I enjoyed writing it. If you have a minute, drop me a line and let me know if you liked it. Thanks for reading! - Sue**_


End file.
